Yumenimo
by Duo no Tsuin
Summary: AU during THOSE three years, Bulma needs a day to indulge herself. As she settles down with her “hot-date” to watch her favorite movie, will an unexpected interruption spoil all of her plans for a restful and enjoyable evening? VxB **Incomplete**
1. Show Stopper

****

Standard Disclaimers:

I do not own _Dragonball Z_ or any of its related merchandising rights. (I wish O.O) They belong to Akira Toriyama and all other associated parties. Also, I am not associated with George Lucas and the great sci-fi saga that is _Star Wars_ and therefore I have no claim to their creation. 

However, this story is _my_ intellectual property and completely my fault for ever going to see _Episode2_ in the theater with my special someone. And, yes, I know that it's not out on VHS/DVD yet; I don't care. It's been too long since I saw it the 2nd weekend it was out. Heck, I don't even remember _all_ of it. I actually started this a few months back, but that shows just _how_ many other projects this was buried under. Also, in case you can't tell, this is my first _DBZ_ fic - but mostly my first V/B. *sigh* I think I'm gonna regret ever starting this . . . -_-

****

Warnings:

Will, eventually, contain _Star Wars Episode2: Attack of the Clones_ content references, so if you haven't seen the movie yet you should go see it because you won't know what Bulma's talking about. (Bulma _is_ watching it, after all) Seriously, it's a _great_ movie! :) There's some swearing and hints of sex and . . . uh, feminine "issues." So be_ware_! Oh, I'm trying a new format for flashbacks. Yup, that's something to warn about. *lol* Asof yet, there are no major warnings, so this story is rated PG-13 for the moment. However, if I get enough of a response/inspiration, then I may add something worth warning you about. ;)

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

****

Yumenimo

- not in one's wildest dreams

By Duo no Tsuin

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Chapter One

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

"Oh, _yeah_. Time to start the show," Bulma cooed as she settled herself into the couch. It was a time to just relax. No fighting, no inventions - just herself and her favorite companions. "Let's see. The DVD's [1] in so all that's left is, " she spoke aloud as she surveyed the items on the coffee table, "hot 'n' fresh popcorn, a soda, and for later," her eyes strayed to the kitchen entrance as she dreamt of her sweet companion for the evening. 

__

Dessert! She licked her lips at the thought.

Today her hot-date was a banana split -she planned on dousing it in hot fudge over french vanilla ice-cream and topping it with luscious red ripe strawberries- to snuggle up with on the couch during part-two in the classic epic . . . Star Wars. Yes, it was indulging a bit, but so what? She deserved a night off. Her stomach spoke to her. She wanted to eat it now and delight in its smooth texture and richness, but she had pre-planned on making it later that evening before her "favorite part."[2] She grinned. _Episode2: Attack of the Clones. Who cares if this is the greatest story that never needed to be told? The point is that it was great even during its time._ Bulma reached for the remote. 

Of course, as Destiny often dictates, the phone rang.

Bulma's smile faded. _Thanks a lot, D. _[3] _Oh, well, so much for my "hot-date."_ she sighed as she rose. The phone rang again. "Dammit, who is it _now_?"

She grabbed the phone off the wall. "Hel-_lo_?"

"Bulma?"

"Oh." It was Yamcha. _What does he want now? For crying out loud, he told me to call yesterday, he never answered, I left a message telling him to call me back, and he never did. Well, not until now. Still, I don't want to talk to him._ "Hi, Yamcha."

"Hey, babe."

Bulma sighed. _There goes my perfect evening._ "So . . . I called yesterday and left a message. Where were you?"

"I was out with some guys from work."

"That's all?" _What about after? You did go home, right?_

"Yeah."

"So . . . did you get my message?" _Why didn't you call me back yesterday?_

"No. What did you say?"

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*  
The day before  
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

__

*beep* 

"Yamcha, you told me to call. So what are you up to? Do you feel like going out tomorrow since we usually _do_ go out on Saturday night? Well, anyway, give me a call when you get this message . . . I love you." 

__

*click*

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*  
Present  
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

__

Bulma sighed. "Nothing special, just . . . to call me back."

"Ah."

"Why didn't you call me back when you got home?"

"Eh, I got back late. You know how it is."

"I can only imagine." _And the things I imagine are enough to make me wanna puke. _Images of bright lights, dancing poles, crumpled up dollar bills, cheap liquor, and strippers fill her head. Bulma shook her head. _But that's not fair of me. I mean, how can I expect him to trust me if I don't trust him?_

"You alright, Bulma? You sound bored. You want me to come pick you up or something? We can come back to _my_ place . . . "

In her memory, Bulma journeyed back to the previous weekend. Flashes of flesh, motion, noise, and Yamcha . . .

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*  
The weekend before  
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

"Wow, that was wonderful, babe. You really know how to have a good-time."

Bulma curled up next to Yamcha. And held onto him tight. "Are you hungry or thirsty, or anything?"

"Gee, Bulma, if you want something just ask."

"I don't need anything. Except . . . " _I don't need to finish. At least he's happy._

"Except, what?"

"Just hold me, Yamcha." _Please, at least give me that._

"Sure, babe. And we'll get you some breakfast later."

"Okay." Bulma snuggled into his arms. Moments later, she was drifting off to sleep . . .

"Oh _man_. I forgot!" Yamcha jumped up and started throwing on random clothes from the heap of dirty laundry on his floor. 

Bulma was shocked from her attempted rest and she sat up. "F-forgot what, Yamcha? Where are you going?" A wad of clothes hit her stomach.

"Here, get dressed. I forgot that I had a meeting scheduled for this morning."

"A-a meeting?" Bulma stammered as she hesitantly got dressed.

"Yeah. I guess you'll have to take a raincheck on that breakfast," Yamcha said as he put on his shoes.

"Um, that's okay." _But that's not what I wanted,_ she thought while she toed on her shoes. "Some other time, then."

Yamcha grabbed his wallet and keys. "You got everything?"

"Uh, yeah," Bulma answered as she picked up her purse off of the floor. _Except some painkillers._ She rubbed her temple. _Why is it that when you get startled from sleep you end up with a throbbing headache!_

Together, they walked out of the apartment and downstairs to the cars. "You can drive yourself home, right?"

"Well, yeah," she gestured to her hover-car. "I drove myself here, remember?" 

"That's great." Yamcha pecked her on the cheek and jumped into his car. "Call me." Then he sped off, leaving Bulma standing lonely in a cloud of dust.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*  
Back to the present  
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

__

Ten bucks says he expects us to have sex. 

"Hey, Bulma, you there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm here."

"Bulma, you don't seem like yourself."

__

And exactly, what is that? "No, Yamcha. I'm fine."

"You sure? You sound moody. And whenever you're that way you get all bitchy and try to start a fight-"

"I'm _not_ moody_ or_ bitchy, dammit! Is it _so_ hard to ask for _one_ night alone without anyone to rescue me and reduce me to some damn damsel in distress?"

"Um, no. Look, Bulma, if you don't want to go out with me and would rather stay home, why didn't you say so?"

"Huh?" 

__

He's right, you know. You could have just said, "No thank you, Yamcha, but thanks for asking." What the Hell, you are moody. You got what you always wanted. Remember on Namek when you dreamed of a "knight in shining armor?" 

__

Yeah, I guess I did. I've found him, haven't I? My knight was always supposed be thinking of me. He'd be kind and gentle, but strong and confident. Hn. The dreaded "Princess of Capsule Corp" strikes again. Who am I to wish for my prince? Was I always so . . . "bitchy?" I don't remember being that way when I was looking for the dragonballs with Goku. No, I don't; that was fun. Well, I was edgy when I met Oolong, but he deserved it. Stupid Piggy. And then came Yamcha . . .

. . . remember when he used to tremble and act like a teen-age geek? Ha, those were the days. He was putty in your hands . . . but things change. He grew up. Did you? 

"I-I'm sorry, Yamcha. I've had a hard week. I know you don't like me to talk shop,[4] but there is some big project that I'm working on that I just _can't_ quite get right-"

"Aw, come on, Bulma. You know that shop talk is so serious that it just wigs you out to talk about it."

"Oh. Well, I won't get into it, then."

"So . . . your heart's really set on staying home."

"Yeah. Like I said, a tough week."

"Ugh, you mean, _that_ week!"

"No! I mean, it hasn't started yet."

There was a pause. Vaguely, Bulma thought she heard him inhaling a deep breath. "When, then?"

"This weekend, I think."

"You think."

"Yeah."

For the first time, there was silence on the other line.

"You . . . want me to call you later? I mean, after the movie?"

"Sure, whenever. Talk to you later, babe."

"Bye Yamcha, I love-"

*click*

"-you."

Bulma held the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment. _That was weird. What's up with him? Oh well. I'll just . . . call him later._

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

To be continued.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

*sigh* Ugh, I know. What made me go from the happy beginning to _this_? _No_, I'm not moody. I'm just . . . almost sad. It's too cold here. I want some hot fudge to cuddle up with. Send all comments, questions, and suggestions to duonotsuin@yahoo.com

[1] I'm making one huge ass assumption that DVD's will still exist in the future. And they had _better_ not have any defects then.

[2] What's Bulma's favorite part? (keep tuning in to find out) Well, just answer this question, during which part of the movie would _you_ like a banana split? O.o

[3] My good friend Kirei Tenshi and I have this little theory about Unmei, or Destiny, as we usually call her. She just _loves_ a good laugh . . . usually at _our_ expense, of course. Still, she has her way of making anything possible - even the idea that a once vengeful alien _could_ have a heart. I'm looking at you, Veggie-Boy. ^_~

[4] How should I explain _this_ one? Let's just say that in my universe Bulma can sometimes get a _little_ bit too technical, and rather than come off as stupid Yamcha says he doesn't want to hear about her job. *shrugs* I'm pulling this outta my butt here, so bear with me.


	2. Girl Talk

****

Standard Disclaimers:

I do not own _Dragonball Z_ or any of its related merchandising rights. (I wish O.O) They belong to Akira Toriyama and all other associated parties. Also, I am not associated with George Lucas and the great sci-fi saga that is _Star Wars_ and therefore I have no claim to his creation. 

However, this story is _my_ intellectual property and completely my fault for ever going to see _Episode2_ in the theater with my special someone. And, yes, I know that it's out on VHS/DVD. (soon, my precious, soon) It's been too long since I saw it the 2nd weekend it was out. Heck, I don't even remember _all_ of it. I actually started this fic a few months back, but that shows just _how_ many other projects this was buried under. Also, in case you can't tell, this is my first _DBZ_ fic – but mostly my first V/B. *sigh* I think I'm gonna regret ever starting this -_-

****

Warnings:

Will, eventually, contain _Star Wars Episode2: Attack of the Clones_ content references, so if you haven't seen the movie yet you should go see it because you won't know what Bulma's talking about. (Bulma _is_ watching it, after all) Seriously, it's a _great_ movie! :) Okay, now as for my fic there's drama(mostly), romance(eventually-_-), some swearing, hints of sex (with Yamcha *runs off to add something to the toilet*– until I get to the V/B romance) and . . . uh, feminine "issues." (I'm such a geek, I can't even _say_ words referring to female anatomy without clamming up o.O) So be_ware_! Asof yet, there are no major warnings, so this story is rated PG-13 for the moment. However, if I get enough of a response/inspiration, then I may add something worth warning you about. ;)

Btw, how's my new "flashback format?" *lol* In case you can't tell, when there's a measureable jump in time I make some note like:

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Some length of time ago

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

A minimal jump ahead in time (ie one minute later) will simply be:

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

For now, I will "go 'back to the future'" *heh* like this:

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Present

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Yeah, I know it's screwed up. I may change it _again_, but especially if people tell me the format sucks. *lol* Confused?? So am I. .

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Dedicated to **Tina** for _Yumenimo_'s 1st review!! ^_^

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

****

Yumenimo

– not in one's wildest dreams

By Duo no Tsuin

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Chapter Two

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Bulma held the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment. _That was weird. What's up with him? Oh well. I'll just . . . call him later._

After the deafening click of the phone on the other end, Bulma sat where she was. For a moment she stared at the receiver in silent though. Sighing, she hung up her end and slouched back into the couch. _How did I get here, anyway?_

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Last night

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

"Bulma, Dear?"

"Yes, Mother?" Bulma yelled as she pulled the tanktop of her silk pajamas over her head. 

"Oh, Dear, there's no reason to shout," Mrs. Breifs spoke so quietly it was often hard to tell where she was when she talked.

"Sorry Mom, I didn't mean to yell."

__

Lie, Bulma's inner voice taunted. _You wanted to yell this morning._

But I didn't. Yes, I wanted to. God, I wanted to scream after that invasion of privacy from this morning. "I just thought you were outside my room." 

__

And that's where you'd like her to stay.

"That's alright, Dear. I know it wasn't intentional."

Despite what that nagging voice inside her said, Bulma believed that her mother had good intentions for doing what she did. _She was just concerned for me. I don't think she meant to say what she did._

She just wanted to humiliate you, is all. She asked you– infront of your dad– if your period had started, for crying out loud! That is just . . . rude.

I know it was. But she didn't mean to embarrass me.

You are just so lucky that he wasn't in the room to hear that lovely interrogation.

Bulma paled at the thought. Thankfully, Vegeta had just left the room after breakfast to continue his gravity training before her mother's little slip-up. _You're right._

And you just said, "It should start this weekend." What a lovely comeback. You should've just barked out a curt, "It's none of your business, Mother!" Now that would've been cool.

It would've hurt her feelings. I couldn't have done that and felt good about it later.

Then why aren't you talking to her now? She is in your room to talk to you.

Ooops. _Now look what you've done, Brain._ As Bulma had brushed her hair to cover-up her silent conversation, Mrs. Breifs remained still. Bulma looked into the mirror and over her shoulder to where her mom sat on her bed– looking down with her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Mom, is there something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Her mother giggled nervously. "Why whatever could be wrong?"

"_Mom_," Bulma turned around, "I can tell when something's bugging you, so you might as well give me a clue what's going on."

"Well . . . "

Bulma knew that she only had to give her mother time. _Then_ she would start singing.

"I-It's your father, Dear. He-he's . . . " She drifted off once more.

And she's singing the blues. Bulma gulped. _Those cigarettes aren't starting to kill him, are they?_

"He's worried about you. There, I said it."

"Wha–? Worried about _me_? What's there to worry about?"

"Well, most girls your age have husbands, some even have families by now–"

"Whoa, you're _not_ talking to me about that _now_–"

"But Bulma, honey–"

"Haven't you realized that I _don't_ want to be like you?"

"Wh– I . . . "

__

I can't believe that I just said that. "Mom, I–"

"Oh, honey, I know that you've never dreamt about being like your silly old mother, but that's not why I'm here."

"Then, why?"

"He– he thinks . . . he's worried that Yamcha is going to get you pregnant."

Bulma couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had only imagined it, hadn't she?

"But we don't hate Yamcha– he's a nice young man– but he's the only boy you've ever dated. And . . . your father and I think that you should, well, keep your options open."

"Is that what _both_ of you think?"

"I– I think that."

"Then what about Dad? What did he _really_ say to you, Mom?"

"He wonders if you're ready to settle down. No, he's _worried_ that something might happen and you'll . . . "

"I'll what?"

"Be forced to live my life." Mrs. Breif's sighed. "I never told you that we made you before our engagement. I got pregnant and . . . he wanted a child _so_ badly . . . "

"Mom?"

"So I kept you. _We_ kept you."

"Mom, d– did you want me?"

"Not at first. I– I was so young. I barely had a chance to– to . . . "

"To what?"

"Live." She paused and took a deep breath. "My parents wanted me to go to college and be . . . successful."

"What did you want?"

"I– I don't know. But let's just say that school wasn't on top of my list."

Bulma knew that her mom was no where near as smart as her family had wanted and that had made her feel guilty for years. Hell, sometimes it made Bulma feel guilty that she _was_ smarter than her mom. _Mom had it a lot harder than I gave her credit for. She never got to experience life when she was young and I wouldn't blame her if she was crushed when I was on the way. My birth had only sealed her fate as a "housewife." All those years taking care of me, and she probably never had a chance to do anything else. _

"But my dad he– he especially didn't approve of your father. He wanted me to marry some sports star. Hm, he would've like Yamcha."

"Mom?" _Come on, Mom, please focus._

"Your Grandfather, he didn't approve of our marriage."

"Is that why I don't remember him?"

"Partly. You see, when we married we weren't rich. We lived in your father's family's basement. We kept you secret from both families. We didn't want anyone to know that they were right."

"How did you get out of there?"

"Your father _loved_ his inventions– even then. He would never give up– just keep tinkering away in his workshop. Eventually, we had all that we have now, plus you. And that's when my father showed up."

"Grandpa?"

"I'll tell you the truth. He only came for the money– he didn't even know about you. But when he saw you, he lit up! He _loved_ you so much."

"But he loved the money too."

"Yes. He stayed with us for a short time . . . and then he left."

"Hn. With a bag of money?"

"No, Dear. He just packed up his things and left. He said that– what were his words? 'You don't need money with a treasure like that.'" 

__

A . . . a treasure?

"Like I said, he loved you, Dear. You have this . . . this _thing_ about you that makes people love you. Your dad and I, your grandfather, your friends, Yamcha, and deep down even–" _You don't know, do you? Even if neither of you know it, he cares for you too. I wish you could see what your father and I already do. You compliment each other so well. One-day, maybe you'll realize that you could have more than Yamcha . . . and then you could have the prince we all dream of. You use your mind so much that sometimes I feel that you neglect your heart. Fairytales can come true, my darling Bulma._

"He died after that, didn't he?"

"Yes. Alone. Hm, I guess he wanted to go meet my mom in Heaven."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Dear?"

"You . . . don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

"But Dear . . . remember what I said to you about coming to me if you and Yamcha ever–"

"Yes, Mom, I remember." _We had that talk so many years ago. I haven't forgotten, I've just– I can't find the words to tell you the truth yet. "Mom, Yamcha and I have not only slept together, but it was unprotected sex. Aren't you proud of me?" God, what have I done? If I tell you then you'll never look at me the same way again._

She was waiting for her daughter to tell her that she had become a woman. _Bulma, please. It's like I don't know who you are anymore. I miss our time together when you were little and all I had to be was your mom. Though I know it's not the same, I'd like to be your friend. Please, tell me the truth. At least tell me that my suspicions are crazy and that you're still a virgin– I might believe that. _And it never came. "Well, then, goodnight Dear."

"Goodnight, Mom."

"And Bulma?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"I love you, remember that. We all do." _And I do mean all of us._

"And I love you too, Mom." _And at least that is the full truth._

"Get some sleep, Dear. Oh, and enjoy your day off. Remember, your father and I are leaving early, and we won't mind if you sleep in for a change." _You deserve it._

After my whole life, they finally get to go on a real honeymoon. Lucky them, Bulma thought.

__

That sounded sarcastic, the contrary inner voice interjected.

__

But they are lucky. Hell, I'd envy them if I weren't so happy for them. Bulma had to fight to smile slightly. "Thanks, Mom, but I _will_ be up before you leave." _At least I'll try. But who knows when I'll get to sleep tonight. I'll be lucky if I fall asleep before midnight based on how I've been sleeping lately._

Sure, Dear. Sure you will," she whispered as she exited the room and walked slowly downstairs to find her husband. 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Never hearing the door click shut, Bulma still sat at her vanity staring blindly into the void of the mirror and concentrating on the sound of her mom's footsteps until they faded. When she was sure that she was alone, she propped her elbows onto the wood, leaned her forehead onto her fingertips, and sighed. "I'm sorry Mom, but . . . I _can't_ tell you that we've–" _We've done it. We slept together. We had sex. _She sniffed when she felt her eyes swelling, "Then I wouldn't be your smart little girl anymore. And . . . " Not wanting to let the moisture fall, she wiped her eyes. "I wouldn't be worthy to be called your treasure."

Though her mother _had_ indeed gone downstairs to another part of the house _and_ was out of earshot, someone else had heard her quiet confession. Silently, the door behind Bulma closed.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

To be continued.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

I'm sure you're all wondering _why_ I just keep making this story deviate more and more from the original plot, but it _will_ get there eventually. *sniff* And why am I torturing poor Bulma? *shrugs* Sorry, when the Inspiration Bug™ bites, I have to answer the call by writing _some_thing. I've been in _such_ a dry spell lately, I figured I owed it to _Tina_[1] to add something. And I'm sure you're all wondering who closed the door. (As if we _all_ don't know!;) Well, I've got to leave a _little_ info for the upcoming chapters. ^_^ Send all comments, questions, and suggestions to duonotsuin@yahoo.com

[1] Don't worry, Tina, I'll be addressing your idea pretty soon. In fact, if I didn't know any better, than I'd wager you could read my mind! ^_~ I think I'm gonna try and write one!! XD *lol* But no promises yet. I still need to work through my "block" first. -_-


	3. I'm too OLD for a babysitter!

**Standard Disclaimers:**

I do not own _Dragonball Z_ or any of its related merchandising rights. (I wish O.O) They belong to Akira Toriyama and all other associated parties. Also, I am not associated with George Lucas and the great sci-fi saga that is _Star Wars_ and therefore I have no claim to his creation. And as far as this chapter goes . . . I don't own _The Incredible Hulk_ or the _Green Giant_. (The one from the vegetable commercials:)

However, this story is _my_ intellectual property and completely my fault for ever going to see _Episode2_ in the theater with my special someone. And, yes, I know that it's out on VHS/DVD. (Christmas may have come and gone, but my birthday's just _way_ to far away!! *hinthint*;) It's been too long since I saw it the 1st weekend it was out. Heck, I don't even remember _all_ of it. I actually started this fic a few months back, but that shows just _how_ many other projects this was buried under. Also, in case you can't tell, this is my first published _DBZ_ fic -- but mostly my first V/B. *sigh* I think I'm gonna regret ever starting this -_-

**Warnings:**

Will, eventually, contain _Star Wars Episode2: Attack of the Clones_ content references, so if you haven't seen the movie yet you should go see it because you won't know what Bulma's talking about. (Bulma _will_ be watching it, after all) Seriously, it's a _great_ movie! :) Okay, now as for my fic there's drama(mostly, although after reading some of the latest comments, I'm going to upgrade it to angst), romance(eventually-_-), OOCness(which I _hate_ but I'm not used to writing IC V/B), unnecessarily bad language(the major reason for the rating increase), my stupid attempts at humor, hints of sex (It's coming, I _swear_) and . . . uh, feminine "issues." (I'm such a geek, I can't even _say_ words referring to female anatomy without clamming up o.O) So be_ware_! As of now the warnings have changed, so this story is now rated R. *evil li'l smirk* If I get enough of a response/inspiration I may yet add something _else_ worth warning you about. ;)

  
  


* * *

  


Dedicated to **xangeliz91487x**, **Dawn Dusk**, **raska**, **Maxelle**, **Carolyn**, and . . . **Tina Lang**!! ^_^  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**Yumenimo**   
-- not in one's wildest dreams

  
  
  


By Duo no Tsuin

  
  
  
  


* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

  
  
  
  
  


_I can't believe I cried myself to sleep last night. What a fool . . . I should just tell Mom but-- I can't yet._

That annoying little voice decided to interrupt her couch-top reverie. _Of course you can't tell her, baka; she's not even here anymore. Don't you remember? They left this morning._

_Mom . . . Dad. At least I kept my promise to see them before they left. The thought made Bulma smile. Mom looked surprised. She looked . . . so happy-- but it almost wasn't that way._

  
  
  


* * *

That morning

* * *

  
  
  


Thankfully, Bulma remembered to set her alarm before tossing and turning for most of the night. _Or should I say regrettably?_ She smacked the alarm's snooze button. _I can't be sleeping in. I'm in charge of Capsule Corp. while my parents are away. I can't spend all my time in bed . . . _

"Blond onna, serve me my breakfast!"

At the sound of _that_ voice, Bulma threw her covers away from her and shut off her alarm. _. . . no matter how tempting that may sound._ She slung her legs over the side of her bed and pushed herself up with a groan. _Yeah, Capsule Corp. needs me--_ she paused at the bathroom door. _But it's my day off._ Bulma sighed, _I haven't had a day off in a while. What do people off from work do, anyway? Go camping?_ Bulma laughed. _As if! I did enough of that on Namek. I don't need a day to myself; I need-- . . . what do I need?_

_A day to veg out on the couch and snack all day?_

_Mmm. Sounds good._

_Ahoy, buttcheeks, we're bringing in a bulky load for you today!_

_Shut up! I am not fat!_

_But you will be if you aren't careful._

_God, you sound like a parent._

_Speaking of which, when are the 'rents shipping out?_

Bulma looked at the clock. _Shit, I'm late already. I hope they haven't left yet._

After washing up, throwing on a pair of hip-hugger jeans and a fitted blue t-shirt bearing the word "Princess" with a little crown on top, brushing her hair and putting it in a ponytail, and toeing on some blue and white sneakers, Bulma bolted through the door and ran into a brick wall.

"Look where you're going, baka onna."

"Get out of the way, Hulk--"

The "Hulk" smirked and raised an eyebrow. "I had no idea I looked _that_ good."

"That's a 'hunk,' Vegetable brain-- get your English straight!"

_So I'm "hunk," then?_

"I'm comparing you to the Incredible Hulk . . . a big green maniacal mutant."

_She did call me "incredible," but she just had to ruin it by tacking on that last sentiment. What a bitch._ "Hn." Vegeta wasn't dumb enough to miss the similarity between his pet-name and the, literal, big green giant-- he _does_ watch television. _Could you be making fun of my height!? And you know full well that I am not Nemakian, you vulgar onna!_

"Now, if you'll ex_cuse_ me, I'm going to see my parents before they leave." She didn't _really_ expect him to get out of her way, _But I made my point, dammit!_

And as always is the course of life . . . the "genius" was proven wrong. Vegeta bowed and ushered with his arms for her to proceed down the stairs. "After you." _She really thinks she is the Capsule Corp. Princess. That tight little shirt . . . how indecent! Does she want me to look? And those jeans, they're barely covering her-- posterior!_

_How dare he mock me!_ "Jerk." But she gratefully took the opportunity to beat him to the breakfast table. _For once. Who knows? Maybe they'll be something left for the rest of us._

As Bulma headed downstairs, Vegeta smirked to her back. _Baka onna, It's not like I can't fly-- Hell, I can walk faster than you can complain._

_Why is he always in my way? You'd think the was following me or something. Gee, I know that I'm hard to resist,_ a sudden chill made her shiver, _but even I have my limits before things get creepy._

"I need more sustenance!"

"Slow down, Vegeta, or one of these days . . . you'll choke." Ah, Mrs. Breifs . . . always the kidder.

"Hn."

_Yes, they're still here! Thank you ever-hungry Saiyan Prince._ On that thought, Bulma walked into the busy kitchen smiling.

"Ah, good morning, Pumpkin."

"Morning, Dad. Anything good?"

Mr. Breifs closed the newspaper he was holding, folded it clumsily, and flopped it onto the tabletop. "Is there ever?"

Despite what had been happening lately, Bulma felt like laughing. "Not in _my_ lifetime."

"And how long is that, since the dawn of time?"

_Dammit, not now! Why do you always have to ruin everything? It's the first "family" moment I've had in forever and you-- wait a minute. How'd he beat me here?_

Bulma's inner voice groaned. _As if you don't know the answer. He's a Saiyan, for crying out loud! He probably just ran so fast that you never saw him. Or flew for that matter._

_Lucky bastard. Could that have been the chill I felt while walking downstairs?_

Mr. Breifs chose that moment to interrupt her musing, "Ah yes, Vegeta, I've been meaning to ask you . . . how have the _new_ training bots and the gravity chamber upgrades been holding up?"

"Just as I'd expect of inferior alien technology."

"Ah, so no problems, then."

_That jerk! I mean, here I invite him to stay at my home when he has no where to go and no one to miss him . . . and he repays me by being rude to my father!? Well, "Prince of All Saiyans," you will soon learn that you don't mess with me and my family in our own home--_

"Good morning, Bulma Dear!" Mr. and Mrs. Breifs seemed to have a six sense when it came to interrupting their daughters homicidal thoughts toward the Saiyan. "We're having bacon and eggs for breakfast."

Bulma shuddered-- mentally. _Damn piggy!. What a pervert-- at least Vegeta's not like that . . . I think. However, they always say that the quiet ones have the most-- and weirdest-- things to hide._ She looked at him as he quickly-- yet regally-- ate his breakfast. _Well . . . at least he can use silverware and chopsticks. And his eating habits aren't atrocious. Perhaps he's got something interesting in there . . . nah! This is Vegeta I'm talking about, here. He's as interesting as a . . . a . . . _

"Piece of toast, Dear?" Mrs. Breifs dropped two pieces of plain toast on a small plate in front of Bulma.

"Yes, thank you."

"Add the butter while it's hot."

_Yeah . . . a piece of hot buttered toast . . . with peanut butter and jelly-- no, cinnamon! Yeah, that's him. Once you add some sugar to the mix, it tastes great-- not that he would necessarily taste so great-- What the Hell am I talking about!?_

"Here you go, Dear." Mrs. Breifs set a larger plate before Bulma with six strips of bacon and two eggs sunny side up.

_Just the way I always like them! Still . . . who wouldn't I kill for a BLT right now?_

"If you'd rather have a BLT, there's lettuce and tomato in the vegetable crisper."

"Uh, thanks, Mom." _Despite what she always used to insist, I still think she's a mind reader. Mmmm, a BLT . . . on toast with some butter and cinnamon? Oh yeah! Well . . . maybe minus the butter. Then how would I get the cinnamon to stay on? Honey? Ooh, that could be good. Or how about just putting it on the tomato? That's it!_ Getting up out of her chair, she asked her mom, "Do we have any cinnamon, Mom?"

"Sure Dear, check the cabinet." Mrs. Breifs blinked. "But what on Earth for?"

"Just something I want to try."

"Okay, Dear, enjoy!"

  
  


* * *

After breakfast

* * *

  
  
  


The Breifs and their guest were outside the mansion gathered around a convertible hovercar. Well, not the guest. While the others were embracing and saying their goodbyes, a certain Saiyan was leaning against a nearby tree-trunk with his arms crossed over his muscular-- and unfortunately shirt adorned chest. Something was bothering him and he couldn't place it. _Don't tell me that I'm actually going to miss these fossils. It couldn't be that. It must be something else . . . but what? I can't be . . . nervous? Bah, a Saiyan Prince is not allowed fear. But still . . . what could it be?_

Unbeknownst to Bulma when she leaned down to hug her father, her jeans slipped to reveal a tiny bit of blue fabric.

_Blue hair, blue eyes, blue shirt, blue jeans, blue shoes, . . . and blue underwear? What the Hell is her problem? Is she so self absorbed that she must constantly remind herself of her supposed beauty? Hm, I wonder if she's got anything on to match those pant-- that's it! The gravity on this stinking planet is so thin that I'm finally losing my mind. As soon as the onna's clan leaves . . . I'm adjourning to the GR-- thicken up the gravity to thicken up the head-- er mind, no muscles! Yeah, muscles the stronger to pound your head in with, Kakkarot!_

"Are you sure you'll be alright, Princess? I can still grab my satellite phone from my office--"

"Un uh. _No_ way is a father of mine going to ruin his honeymoon with my mother by bringing a phone along so he can call and interrupt _my_ vacation with his worries about me, the house, and the business."

"You're right, Dear. I wouldn't want to interrupt your . . . vacation." A strange look passed over her father's features. _She'd kill me if she knew what I was really thinking._ "Well, that's it, the car's loaded and ready to go."

"Now, you have your capsules with you to store the car, right Dad?"

"Yes, Princess, all taken care of. How else do you think we were able to take a month's worth of clothing in one small bag? Besides, your list worked wonders. Whatever would we do without you?"

_I could name a few thousand things,_ the Saiyan grumbled internally as Mr. and Mrs. Breifs piled into their convertible.

"Bye Mom! Bye Dad! Have a wonderful honeymoon!"

_What the Hell is this . . . honey moon that they speak of? I'd ask, but that would be admitting ignorance. I'd rather remain so than give that baka onna the satisfaction of outwitting me. Everyone knows she's a fucking genius; why does she always have to shove it down their throats?_

"Bye Honey," Bulma's mom waved. "_Oh!_ By the way, Vegeta, remember to keep an eye on Bulma for us while we're gone!"

On that note, Bulma's eyes nearly jumped out of her head. "_What!?_" She looked at Vegeta and he was just as unreadable as ever. "But Mom, I'm too old for a babysitter!"

Just as she yelled it out, the engine of the hovercar revved up. Mrs. Breifs smiled and waved, "You two have a nice time!" And they were gone.

_They have got to be joking. Me, a full grown woman and competent adult . . . needs a babysitter? Hm, I think all that smoking has rotted both their brains. Oh well, I guess I had better interrogate the monkey._ Bulma mimicked Vegeta's stance and crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what are they paying you?"

"Hn?" His eyes jumped to hers. She was confused-- an idiot could see that. _What the fuck should I say? They're not paying me anything! She's got the wrong idea-- then why shouldn't I give her something to think about?_

The strength in his eyes burned her. _I'm not backing down this time, bastard!_ "Answer me, dammit!"

"And tell you what?"

Bulma scowled. "What are my parents paying you to be my babysitter?!"

"I'm not supposed to say." _Liar! Just tell her the truth; she's a paranoid onna!_

"That's _bull_ and you know it! Dammit, I'm too _old_ for a babysitter!"

"Hn." _But arguably old enough to be put in a retirement home. You want to play, little onna? We'll play._ As if in thought, Vegeta reached up to stroke his chin. "That reminds me--"

"Get bent, dickhead," Bulma mumbled as she turned and started to stomp to the house.

" . . . they left a few rules."

"Huh?" She stopped dead in her tracks.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards her. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on you . . . "

Again, she crossed her arms, but she refused to look at him. _Spill it, monkey boy._

He stopped just behind her. Vaguely, he noticed how his breath moved the fine blue hairs that escaped her attempt at binding them.

She could feel him behind her-- a sudden heat. _Maybe it's just his ki. He's grown in power over the years . . ._ Bulma fought a sudden urge she had to shiver.

" . . . so there'll be no _loud_ parties and _no_ friends allowed."

"Wha--?" _My parents have never pulled any crap like that before._ Bulma whirled around to face her _guest_ turned nanny. "But--"

"And _no_ weaklings named Yamcha."

Bulma squeezed her fists shut and tried not to grind her teeth as she spoke with determination-- not volume. "You're _lying_!" _He's got to be. This is just too damn weird._

And to seal his decree, he did the only thing that would end this discourse. He smirked. "Try me."

She wanted to scream. Hell, she wanted to deck him. _Like that would do any good._ Instead, she cursed. "Go fuck yourself," and then went back inside the house-- slamming the door after her.

_It's too easy. She ate up every word I said. Such vulgarity. A true princess would never say anything of the sort . . . go fuck myself? Oh, I've done that little onna. But there's only so much a man can do on his own before he needs something else._

  
  
  
  


* * *

To be continued. 

* * *

  
  
  


o.O Oh my God . . . that last paragraph just sucked _ass_!! What the Hell was I thinking . . . -_-

Well, that's it! A new chapter! XD Yeah, I know it took awhile, but when I went to type this one up I realized that I had written two com_plete_ly different versions of the morning. I ended up combining them in one. So what did you think? Is Bulma a flake in this story? Is her idea for a BLT with cinnamon on the tomato sickening? Does it sound good? Are Bulma's parents up to something? Is Vegeta too much of a jerk/dope in this fic? Is the "princess" swearing too much?

I hope Vegeta's official "entrance" wasn't _too_ bad. (I find it hard to write him with dignity. SO . . . I'll probably just write him as a cynic like me instead! *lol* Just kidding. :P)

For the next chapter . . . Bulma's been staring at that never ending blue screen too long and someone shows up to _snap_ her out of it. But mostly . . . only one more big flashback! *readers cheer* Hey, they aren't _that_ bad! *pause* Okay, they are, but there won't be any more after that unless abso_lute_ly necessary! I'm not sure if I'll start the movie in the next chapter (Yes, I will _even_tually write some stuff about ep2. Mostly character comments about certain parts of the movie. I'll have to be _really_ careful not to spoil _too_ much of the movie.) But in the end, no matter _how_ I go about it . . . writing the next chapter is going to take some finesse. And what if I'm all out!?!?

Thanks to all you reviewers for inspiring me to continue! ^_^ Yes, I realize that it's slow going, but when you're working on multiple stories at a time . . . time seems to melt away. (like that painting by Salvador Dali, that I can never remember the name of, with all the melting clocks:) What fics am I working on? Just check my profile and see! ;) Send all comments, questions, and suggestions to:  
duonotsuin@yahoo.com


	4. Googles and Goddesses

**Standard Disclaimers:**

I do not own _Dragonball Z_ or any of its related merchandising rights. (I wish O.O) They belong to Akira Toriyama and all other associated parties. Also, I am not associated with George Lucas and the great sci-fi saga that is _Star Wars_ and therefore I have no claim to his creation. I don't own the Iomega company that makes Zip drives, and they only have Zip100/250 or Jazz. And by no means am I an expert of Greek/Roman mythology. (You'll see. In fact, I got another couple story ideas from it:) 

However, this story is _my_ intellectual property and completely my fault for ever going to see _Episode2_ in the theater with my special someone. It's been too long since I saw it the 1st weekend it was out, but that shows just _how_ many other projects this was buried under. The ZipGoogle is my parody of the Zip100. *heh* Also, in case you can't tell, this is my first published _DBZ_ fic -- but mostly my first V/B. *sigh* I think I'm gonna regret ever starting this -_-

**Warnings:**

Though there are _Star Wars Episode2: Attack of the Clones_ content references, I've decided not to give anything away, really(there were more ideas originally, but I can't remember them all): So if you haven't seen the movie yet you should go see it because you won't understand what might happen in later chapters. *heh heh heh* Seriously, it's a _great_ movie!

Okay, now as for my fic . . . there's drama, angst, romance (to come), OOCness(until I grow and learn _decent_ IC V/B), unnecessarily bad language and lots of it, my stupid attempts at humor, hints of sex (It's coming, I _swear_;) and . . . uh, feminine "issues." So be_ware_! This story is now rated **R**. *evil li'l smirk* If I get enough of a response/inspiration I may yet add something _else_ worth warning you about. ;)

  
  


* * *

Thanks to Vampkestrel, Lina, Maxelle, and . . . **Tina Lang**!! ^_^   


* * *

  
  
  
  


**Yumenimo**   
-- not in one's wildest dreams

  
  
  


By Duo no Tsuin

  
  
  
  


* * *

Chapter Four

* * *

  
  
  
  
  


_Stupid Vegeta. I mean . . . I know he was just lying to me-- I think. Sometimes I really do wonder if he has the power to dictate my mood within a day. I was actually happy . . . and then he had the gall to open his big mouth._

  
  
  


* * *

After the Briefs' left

* * *

  
  
  


Bulma slammed the door behind her. _What an asshole! What a fucking asshole!_

_You have to admit, that was a clever stunt of his._/p> 

_So what if it was, I'll never tell him that._

_Now that you're home alone . . . what shall you do?_

_I have absolutely no idea._

_Why don't you go to the lab?_

_No way._

_What are you, chicken?_

_No._

_Then why isn't Bulma Briefs inventing?_

_I, uh . . ._

_You're too scared to go in there, aren't you?_

_Me? No way, I'm just . . . _

_Fresh out of ideas._

_A temporary creative block. I just need something . . . new._

_Well, why don't you start with something old and grow from there._

_I guess I'll just go hideout in my office, then._

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


"Will _nothing_ about this day go right?!"

Despite the little "incident" after her parents left, Bulma decided she should try and get some work done on her computer. Of _course_ the damnable machine decided to deny the existence of her ZipGoogle Drive. And her every attempt to restore the driver left her with the same result-- nothing.

_All my files inaccessible. It fucking figures._ Bulma leaned forward onto her desk and massaged her temples. "This is just _not_ my day."

_So now what are you going to do?_

_Bury my computer in the backyard? Or let Vegeta use it for target practice . . . _

_Where is the hulk, anyway?_

_Don't know, don't care. Probably bashing the GR to Hell._

_What's with the potty mouth? You going to quit the family biz and become a sailor?_

_Shove it._

The day still wasn't getting better. Bulma sighed. _What would I give to be a little kid again? Life was so simple then . . . when I was home alone--_

_Hel-lo! You're not alone._

_Like I care, that tailless chimp is in the GR all the time anyway. My point was that I could do whatever I wanted._

_Such as?_

_Such as . . . I could eat a banana split for breakfast if I wanted-- that's it!_

_You want a banana split for breakfast tomorrow?_

_When I was younger and in bed sick, I used to watch Star Wars Episode2: Attack of the Clones. It always made me feel better._

_And you think that's what will save the day?_

_Why not? And maybe I'll throw in a banana split too-- just in case._

_But there are no bananas downstairs. No one eats them in this house._

_Then I'll go to the store. This could be the plan that will save the day!_

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


As Bulma prepared to jump into her hover modified classic Mustang convertible, the GR caught her attention. _I feel bad for the way I acted earlier. I may as well ask him if he wants anything._ She jogged up to the GR and punched the vidcom button-- a light would flash inside to let him know she wanted to talk.

The din in the GR subsided. "_What_?" His face was covered in sweat and obvious indignation at having his vigorous training interrupted.

Bulma sighed. _He sure tries hard._ "I'm going food shopping. Need anything special?"

"Something _edible_." The picture went black.

Bulma couldn't help it. She chuckled. _Princes.'_

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Vegeta watched through the window as Bulma smiled and laughed to herself before walking away. _What changed her mood? One minute she's brooding, then vivacious, pissed off, and then . . . beaming and chortling? If I didn't know any better, I'd swear she was a princess-- what am I saying? She knows nothing about being royalty! The closest she comes is by being a selfish snob-- unlike myself who is jeopardizing my life to save this puny planet from some theoretical androids._ Vegeta exhaled. _I need more conditioning._

  
  
  


* * *

The Present

* * *

  
  
  
  


_It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Just the thought of the sundae and the movie made me smile. But now . . ._ Her eyes strayed to the remote. _Do I even want to watch anything now? I don't even think I should bother._

_Suddenly, the door burst open and booted footsteps echoed on the tiled floor._

Bulma grimaced. _Great, that's all I need-- some baka Saiyan ordering me to cook this or clean that._ She was so busy griping about a Saiyan sense of thoughtfulness that she almost didn't notice the plop of a Saiyan form into the overstuffed recliner next to the couch. But when the footrest went up with a click, she snapped out of her thoughts. "What are _you_ doing in here? Shouldn't you be overtraining yourself, breaking my father's machinery, and blowing yourself to bits, yet again?"

_She uses that against me every opportunity she gets._ He remembered. He had indeed pushed the innovation far past its early limitations. _I never asked her-- why? Should I have? No, it wasn't any of my concern-- despite the fact that it was my life she salvaged from the GR wreckage. Foolish Onna, she should have left me there-- only she could be that asinine. No one else would have done it._ And that thought was what disturbed him the most. It was still too soon after Namek-- the blood against him was still sinister and vengeful. _Only she . . ._ That day, she still wore that over volumized hairdo that he loathed. _So large . . . so freakish, so . . . riveting. And aliens think our hair is weird. Even genetics wanted us to be distinguished._ But when he woke up, her hair had been altered once more. _I hadn't expected anything-- anyone. But when I saw her . . . I almost didn't recognize her. _

  
  
  


* * *

The Day Vegeta Awoke

* * *

  
  
  
  


First he had only known the darkness. And then . . . warmth. He didn't know where he was. In between the realm between everlasting sleep and consciousness, he had forgotten what happened.

When his eyes opened lazily, he was met with the sea-- rippling waves, endless blue, splayed before him. _Am I floating? But the warmth . . ._ That sensation faded as his mind awoke. _Then . . . where am I?_ He stared at the supposed waves. They appeared to be frozen. The sea shifted and the swell fell towards him. _Will I drown?_ And the diminished tsunami revealed its treasure. _The onna?_

Her eyes were closed and her hair tousled. _She's asleep?_ Careful not to move, his eyes surveyed his surroundings. There was little light but he could now tell he was in his room and his bed. And she was sitting in a chair next to his bed, asleep-- her head nestled within her arms atop his stomach. _That explains the warmth._ A movement in her sleep had caused her hair to fall away from her. _Her hair . . ._ The curl had lessened but the length was still there. The presumed sea was nothing more than waves of her hair all along.

_And from the frothing waves of the sea burst forth the goddess Aphrodite._

From some television program-- something Bulma made him watch of course-- he had learned of Earth myths, the gods, the goddess, and even Aphrodite. _Otherwise known as Venus, the goddess of love and beauty._ At this moment he cared not for the fantasy . . . for some reality was warming his stomach-- in both senses of the words.

She stirred and his abdominal muscles tensed. She stretched her arms out above her, reached across his invisible form, and slowly sat up. As she rotated her neck, her hair fell forward to cover her face and then back again-- framing her face. _Then again, maybe I'm dreaming after all._

She was glowing. _Except . . ._ Her lips refused to smile.

She slowly opened her eyes and settled on his stomach before her. _I was . . . asleep? And I was sleeping on him!? But he's still asleep-- he has been for days. He wouldn't choose just this moment to wake up, would he?_ She looked at the rise and fall of his chest for any changes-- as she had watched for any abnormality since the accident. His breathing pattern had changed. It wasn't the deep breath of sleep. It was as if he had stopped breathing all together-- she swallowed. _Oh shit._ Her eyes jumped to his face . . . and grew to the size of saucers.

_She's looking at me as if she's sad. Was she . . . worried about me?_ When her eyes jerked his way, he swore his heart stopped. Her eyes were wide in surprise. _Did I startle her?_

Bulma knew she should say something, but she couldn't find the right words. "V-Vegeta?"

When she whispered his name, he hadn't heard her-- exactly. He knew she spoke and whatever word it was sounded like music, but he couldn't stop staring into her blue eyes. _Don't be blue . . . _

"Vegeta, I . . . " _I don't know what to say. Should I tell him how I had no words to even scream his name and ask him if he was alright?_

_Why is she staring at me like that? I must be grossly disfigured or something._

"Vegeta, you're . . . awake. I-I-- how are you feeling?" After a mental smack to the forehead, she swore, _Dammit, what a great thing to say. Why don't you tell him that you were worried about him or something more._

He smirked at her. "Like I was blown apart-- how else would I feel?"

She smiled back at him. "At least you got back your sense of humor."

"How long was I out?"

"Just a few days. Anyone else would've been in a coma for weeks or even worse dea--" Bulma closed her eyes. _Anyone else would've died . . . except you. I'm just grateful that you're you._

Something was bothering the woman-- he could tell by the way she closed her eyes and clenched her fists. _She thought I would die?_ "Me, the Prince of all Saiyans die so easily? No way in Hell. What do you take me for, Onna, a weakling human?"

Her eyes opened and she managed a weak smile for him. "At least you'll get stronger after this, _right_?" _And then there would be little to no chance of you ever having to be like this again-- so vulnerable and helpless-- with me waiting by your side again-- what am I saying? I'm not a nurse, but . . . did I only sit here with him because I felt obligated to him? It's not like he's done anything for me-- but that doesn't mean I wanted him to die alone like that._

He wanted to tell her, yes, he'd be so strong that nothing would ever hurt him again-- but he couldn't. He knew that a tough fight was coming with the androids. He could feel it.

"Vegeta, I wanted to tell you that--"

"Bulma,Dear! Yamcha's here for you! Are you ready to go on your date?"

It was her mother calling for her. Vegeta now took notice of her garb-- a long royal blue fitted dress with long sleeves, fabric that tempted to fall off her slender shoulders, and a plunging neckline. _If her vestments were anymore elegant, then maybe she would almost look like a princess._

Inside of her, a battle raged. _Dammit, why now? Not now! I wanted to tell him--_

_Tell him what? That you'd rather be here with him than going to some stupid party with Yamcha? That you missed him? That you cared whether or not he lived or died in that explosion?_

_So what if I do, what's wrong with that? I should tell him._

_Then go ahead, blow your planned evening with your boyfriend for a tailless, murdering monkey._

Bulma turned to leave-- defeated. "I had better go. You should try and get some more rest before getting up again, Vegeta."

He, meanwhile, had no words at all. The further away from him she walked, the larger the emptiness within him grew. An impulse inside him told him to reach up, grab her, and not let her go. But it would be wrong. _Always into the arms of that damn weakling human._ On some level, he pitied her blind devotion. And on another he whimsically recalled what it was like. He was a prince once and all Saiyans heeded his word without rebuttal. She would never do that. When it came to him she would always argue the issue. Whenever he did something she deemed wrong, she would tell him. _But this time . . . no berating._ That was what he didn't understand.

"And Vegeta?"

"Hn?"

She slowly turned around and met his eyes with her own. "Don't ever worry me like that again." And then she was gone.

  
  
  


* * *

The Present

* * *

  
  
  
  


She had worried after all. But she still left. _What had changed in her since then? Where did Bulma go?_ "Hn. Shouldn't _you_ be working?"

_Touch‚._ Bulma crossed her arms. "That's none of your business."

"As is _my_ training none of yours."

"Hn." Bulma stared at the eternal blue on the screen before her and suddenly realized that she liked blue.

"Dammit, Onna, what is this crap? The blue-haired freak channel? Put on something else."

Subconsciously, the fingers of her left hand knitted into a tightly woven fist. _I am not in the mood for this . . ._ "Hn. If you _must_ know I was going to watch a movie."

"Fine. Whatever. Just hurry up and put _some_thing on before Kakkarot gets any dumber."

_Oooh, you're lucky I'm letting that one slide as well, monkey._ She snapped up the remote, "_Fine_," and pressed play.

  
  
  
  


* * *

To be continued. 

* * *

  
  
  


Okay, I lied. I know I said only one more big flashback, but . . . I just couldn't resist throwing in the other one. ^_^ Yeah, I guess it's pretty stupid. Up until now, this story was all Bulma (I don't know whether that's a good or a bad thing), so I guess the point of it was to show more of Vegeta-- or at least attempt it. All I meant it to be was a paragraph or two, but it kept growing. Hell, I should just cut it out and make it a mini-prequel or something. (Though then I'd be tempted to make a whole other series with it) But I think it's kind of needed where it is. *shrugs* But what do I know.

After adding the new flashback, this chapter was _way_ too long. So . . . I cut the start of the show (the few comments) and will put them at the beginning of the next chapter. It makes more sense that way anyway. Plus, it will give me more length for what I have planned. (but not written yet - _-) In the end, I guess it will work out alright after all.

For the next chapter: The movie begins and both Bulma and Vegeta have a few things to say during the movie. (For instance: the opening scene, sorta, and Jar Jar Bink's entrance. *lol* _So_ . . . if you've got any ideas what V/B should bitch about/mention/make fun of, don't hesitate to drop a "hint" in a review or email;) Plus . . . Bulma's urge for banana splits returns! Hooray! But just what's going to happen to ruin it _this_ time . . . ?

With all the changes, I hope that this chapter wasn't _too_ bad. Thanks to all you reviewers for inspiring me to continue! ^_^ Send all comments, questions, and suggestions to:  
duonotsuin@yahoo.com


	5. F BEEP king Flying Furball!

**Standard Disclaimers:**

I do not own _Dragonball Z_ or any of its related merchandising rights. (I wish O.O) They belong to Akira Toriyama and all other associated parties. Also, I am not associated with George Lucas and the great sci-fi saga that is _Star Wars_, and therefore I have no claim to his creation.

However, this story is _my_ intellectual property and completely my fault for ever going to see _Episode2_ in the theater with my special someone. It's been too long since I saw it the 1st weekend it was out (so if you see a scene missing that you think V/B should mention/make fun of, tell me and I'll add it later:), but that shows just _how_ many other projects this was buried under. Also, in case you can't tell, this is my first published _DBZ_ fic -- but mostly my first V/B. *sigh* I think I'm gonna regret ever starting this -_-

**Warnings:**

Though there are a few _Star Wars Episode2: Attack of the Clones_ content references, I've decided not to give anything away, really(there were more ideas originally, but I can't remember them all): -- just the opening scene, sorta, and Jar Jar Bink's entrance for starters. *lol* So if you haven't seen the movie yet you should go see it because you won't understand what might happen in _later_ chapters. *heh heh heh* Seriously, it's a _great_ movie!

Okay, now as for my fic . . . there's drama, angst, romance (to come), OOCness(until I grow and learn _decent_ IC V/B), unnecessarily bad language and lots of it, my stupid attempts at humor, hints of sex (It's coming, I _swear_;) and . . . uh, feminine "issues." So be_ware_! This story is now rated **R**. *evil li'l smirk* If I get enough of a response/inspiration I may yet add something _else_ worth warning you about. ;)

  
  


* * *

Dedicated to **mischief maker**, Pammy, mali, Seveninchsprockets, **Melancholy Angel**, Loud mouth Chichi, **AngelofDeath**, Astria, Taboo, Cat, **veggie-chan**, Sano, **punkispurple**, draegon_fire and . . . **Tina Lang** for being an inspiration and "nagging" me to no end!! ^_^   


* * *

  
  
  
  


**Yumenimo**   
-- not in one's wildest dreams

  
  
  


By Duo no Tsuin

  
  
  
  


* * *

Chapter Five

* * *

  
  
  
  
  


As the signature introduction boomed through the home theater speakers, Bulma wasn't paying attention. _I do not want to watch this now . . . and especially not with him._

_Well, you are_, her inner voice answered.

_Oh no, not you again. You're the one that got me into this mess-- _

_Just shut up and watch the movie._

_Fine, but don't expect me to enjoy it!_

_Sure, whatever. Just watch the damn movie, already._

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Bulma sighed. _I wish someone were trying to kill me._

_You do not mean that!_

_I know I don't, but . . . just once I wish someone cared whether I lived or died._

_You're thinking about Namek again._

_And so what if I am? It's my life and I have a right to bitch about it._

_Oh brother._

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_Poor Ewan, what where you thinking? In Episode One, you had it figured out-- no beard. Well, not that facial hair is bad . . ._ She thinks of her dad and giggles mentally. _They tickle! Yamcha, however, he wouldn't look good in a beard or mustache. Well, I guess they're okay on some people._ Her eyes jump to Vegeta. _Hm . . . with his facial structure . . . on him it wouldn't be half bad. Well, maybe not a mustache. But a beard? It sure would make him look more like royalty. I wonder . . . _

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Clownishly, Jar Jar Binks saunters across the screen. And Vegeta sits up with a jerk. "What the fuck is that walking pile of crap?!"

"Why, is he related to _you_?"

Vegeta sneered. "I just asked a question . . . and as the Prince of all Saiyans I de_serve_ an answer!"

Bulma rolled her eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Onna!"

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Bulma sighed- again- much to Vegeta's displeasure of course. _Oh brother._

Bulma, meanwhile, was much more concerned about her _lack_ of companionship. _He was so enamored by her for all those years. She's so lucky to have someone so devoted to her._

_You have Yamcha, her voice amended._

_But I have-- do I really? It's been so long since those days and . . . I'm not a love-sick teenager any more._

_Emphasis on the sick._

_When he and I would be together in a room, there used to be something. But lately . . . _

_He's a stranger to you._

_There was something between us then. Until one of Vegeta's Saibamen killed him. He was dead, and then we wished him back after all that time apart. What is the cliché?_

_Absence makes the heart grow fonder._

_We seemed so happy to everyone-- the honeymoon-- but everyone knew it had to end sometime. When he was living here, it was different. We could see each other everyday and new what life had in store for us. Then one day he told me he wanted to move out and be on his own-- and stop living off me. It must have been his manly pride telling him that he didn't need me. I told him I was fine with it; I needed to concentrate more on work anyway. Why was I the only one who never realized that it was supposed to end? Now that I think about it, was he looking for an easy out right then?_

_He said, "I guess this is goodbye, Bulma," as he packed up what clothes, essentials, and nameless inessentials you bought him and loaded them into a taxi._

_Hn. And then I just smiled and gushed, "What goodbye? You'll be calling me asking for a date on Saturday, right?" Shit. What have I done? He was looking for a way out. And I just trapped him. Am I really so pathetic that I'll just latch onto whatever thief steals my heart?_

_He was a thief, you know?_

_And Vegeta was a murderer._ She sulked heavily. _I sure do know how to pick my house guests. _

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


When Bulma sighed at least the thousandth time-- she seemed to be doing that a lot during the movie-- Vegeta resisted his normal reaction-- leaving the building. _What is wrong with her tonight? She just keeps sighing and brooding over and over again-- I don't think I can take it anymore. Usually she'd be cheering the "hero" and practically heckling the villain-- that's just how she is. But now . . . this silence is just too eerie. She's going to crack; I can almost feel the steam building within her. And I don't think I want to be around her when that geyser blows its top._

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_Wow, wouldn't that be sweet . . . spending a meal with someone for a change-- yup, definitely sweet._ A virtual lightbulb flashed in her head. _Yeah, I know I haven't even eaten dinner yet, but so what?_

_Bulma, just indulge yourself._ Bulma stood and turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Where are you going?"

She paused and crossed her arms. However, this time she was determined to not let her mood be spoiled. She faced him with a slight smile and casually leaned against the doorframe. "I'm going to make something. You want anything to eat?"

"It's not dinnertime." _Since when has that ever mattered?_

_A saiyan . . . not hungry? Oh please, Veg, I've got you figured out._ "Then how about a snack?"

"No."

It was fun bugging him. _I'm such a tease . . ._ Placing her left hand on her hip and propping her right elbow against the doorjamb, she leaned into her open palm and flashed her most brilliant smile. "Come on, it's not like your appetite will be spoiled-- you're a Saiyan." _Take the bait._

_Is that a challenge, little onna?_ "If I tell you okay will you shut up so I can watch this damn movie?"

She would've been pissed if she hadn't realized something. "Vegeta . . . do you like this movie?"

He crossed his arms. "It's okay."

"Heh, I'll take that as a yes. Any requests for your snack?"

"No."

"Oh, come on, you can tell me." She pouted, "I'm no Saiyan gourmet, but I have experience with Earth food."

"Whatever, just go make it already."

"So it's my decision, then?"

"Whatever."

She smiled once again and pushed herself from her pose against the wall. "You won't regret this."

"Just don't poison me."

"I'll resist the urge your _high_ness." She teased as she turned to open the kitchen door.

"After the slop I've eaten . . . even your cooking begins to taste good," he thought aloud under his breath.

_Is my hearing improving?_ Bulma addressed him again over her shoulder. "Oh yeah, like what?"

_Damn her, she made me watch this stupid movie and now she won't even let me watch it in peace._ "Bugs."

Bulma's spine stiffened. "B- . . . bugs?"

"Big ones," he added.

She blanched. "And you ate them . . . raw?"

"No," Vegeta could tell she was getting freaked out by the subject of bugs-- saw the natural blush drain from her face. She didn't know he saw her sunbathing one-day-- accidentally of course-- when she jumped as a caterpillar crawled across her stomach. _Of course, she pet it like a kitten afterwards . . ._ He let his eyes drift to hers and smirked, "Barbequed."

_He just . . . joked? There may be hope for the Saiyan race yet._ She chuckled as he turned his attention back to the movie. "Yeah, sure, Vegeta." She walked into the kitchen stuck her head around the corner once more adding, "Remind me to ask for the recipe someday . . . " She winked.

_What was that wink for? She couldn't have been serious . . . could she have been testing me? Crazy Onna, she still cannot make up her mind._

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Bulma set to work on her masterpiece. Humming as she laid out the ingredients-- a habit that annoyed her co-workers and amused her parents-- sped the process. First she removed the ice-cream from the freezer and brought out the bananas, ripe strawberries, and fudge. 

Placing it all on the island counter-top, she went on a hunt for two bowls-- one regular sized for her and one jumbo plastic bowl for him. _Good thing I got three gallons of ice-cream, ten bananas, and a case of strawberries,_ she thought with a smile. Then she got a pot, turned on the burner, and put the fudge in to melt while she prepared the rest.

She cut the bananas in half longways-- not as easy as it sounds. _Two halves for me . . . eighteen halves for you,_ she chimed as she dumped hers in the bowl and arranged his in a star shape. _It's not like he'll notice, but so what! I'm having fun for a change!_ After she added a plateau of ice-cream, added a smaller banana star, and heaped on a mountain of ice-cream, she cut the strawberries in neat halves to place in a circle around each bowl.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Moments later Bulma was still having fun as the tower of ice-cream grew in each bowl and was drowned in hot fudge. She grabbed the last of the cut strawberries and was going to top the banana splits--

*Ding-Dong-Ding! Ding Dong Ding Dong Ding!*

_ . . . Because I'm resisting the urge to wack you over the head with a frying pan._ She groaned and thought aloud, "Who the heck is it _now_?" Her hands were covered in ice-cream, fudge, juice from the strawberries, and general sticky goodness.

*Knock-knock-knock* 

Whoever it was had moved their assault to the side entrance to the kitchen. _Mother fucking--_ she opened the door.

"Hey Bulma, are you ready for our date tonight? 

"D-date?" _I never said anything about a date. I may have told him that I'd call him, but . . . not to come over. And I thought he understood that I was watching a movie alone tonight? Well, not alone-- But Vegeta doesn't count. He's just a guest._

"Yamcha, I think you misunderstood--" Her words were cut off as he thrust a bouquet of flowers into her sticky hands.

"I missed you."

"Um . . . " _Well, his mood sure changed since earlier._ She looked at the flowers in her hand and realized they should be put in water. Walking to the sink in the counter opposite the island and kitchen door, she said aloud, "What are the flowers for? Did something happ--"

"Did something happen? _Nothing_ happened." He walked away from her and toward the kitchen table. He turned around as if changing his mind both in action _and_ thought. "What's so wrong with me giving my favorite beautiful girl some beautiful flowers? There doesn't have to be a _reason_--"

Now _that_ got her attention. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Favorite? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, well, you know, next to Puar--"

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm second to a flying cat?"

"No, Bulma, I just meant that--"

Bulma threw the bouquet into the sink, set her hands on her hips, and turned around in a huff. "I'm second to a fucking flying furball!?"

"Of course not, Bulma, I just--"

"And what's with the flowers all of a sudden? Fact, you only bring me flowers when you've done _some_thing to feel guilty for." As she spoke, she took steps closer to him until she was standing between the island and the table staring him down. "Remember when you lost the watch I gave you? You brought me flowers. When you accidentally washed my favorite sweater with your clothes and shrank it till it was so small that not even Puar could wear it, again, you brought flowers. When you forgot my _birth_day . . . the next day you sent me flowers--"

"Bulma, I--"

"I'm _sick_ of flowers, Yamcha. I'm sick of you forgetting me. What happened the other night? Why weren't you home when you said you'd be?"

"Because . . . Puar's dying, Bulma."

"_What_?"

"It's Puar . . . lately, she can't even fly. Remember how she used to train herself to keep transformations longer and longer? Well, now she's lucky if she can hold a form for a few minutes before it fades and she falls asleep."

_Okay . . . car trouble I could believe. Maybe even a late meeting. But this!?_ "Um, Yamcha, Puar is not dying. Hell, Puar isn't even a girl."

"What are you talking about? Of _course_ she's a girl."

"Yamcha, are you losing it? Puar is a _boy_ and he is _not_ dying. I saw him last weekend and he was just fine around me--"

"'Cause she's a girlfriend stealer! Whenever _you_'re there, she immediately comes up to talk to _you_."

Despite the ludicrousness of the conversation, Bulma was staying remarkably calm. As she spoke, she turned away from him, gripped the marble top of the island, and leaned forward. "So you're calling him a lesbian shape shifting cat because he talks to me? Hell, you don't even know his sex, so for all you know . . . he's gay for _you_," she teased.

"That's just _gross_ Bulma you know I only like girls--"

"Yeah, what you refer to as your fucking girl _cat_!" _This is going way too far! I mean, of all the lame brained, dumbass excuses--_ She turned to face him-- crossing her arms and dawning her best Vegeta-esque glare ever. "Well, since you care so goddamn much more about him than you do about me, why don't you just fucking _leave_?"

"You know what? You're right, Bulma, I _do_ care more about her! At least she's grateful for everything that I do for her!"

"Because you actually _do_ stuff for her and forget all about me!"

"Yeah, I forgot why I even liked you! Hell, I forget why I didn't just leave your dumbass in the desert when I had the chance! Ha, I wish I'd done it sooner, you've _always_ held me back. But no more! I'm gonna do what I should have done a long time ago . . . " He headed for the door.

"What? Get a sex change so you can be the bitch while your fucking _guy_ cat fucks you up the ass?"

At her words, he stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "We're _through_ Bulma."

_What?_ "Y-you're breaking up with me?"

"No _shit_, Bulma. Goddamn, for a genius you're really dense sometimes."

Her arms tightened around herself*#45- as if making a protective barrier from the words. _Look at me, Yamcha. Tell me you didn't mean--_

"Do you know that I used to awake in the middle of the night to hold you in my arms-- those were the moments I dreamt of us getting married, having kids, growing old together, and the sight of our grandchildren-- and you weren't there? You were huddled off on your own side of the bed looking away from me." _It hurt . . ._

"But that's just how I fall aslee--"

"You're possessive, Bulma, you know that? Hn, if there's one thing that you and the Prince have in common is that you _both_ think only of yourselves. You're spoiled, Bulma. And I can't be with someone who doesn't know love when they see it." _I can't turn and look at her. If I do . . . I'll take it back. I can't take back the truth._

At the words he had spoken, she dropped her hands to her sides and clenched them tightly. She couldn't tell if it was hurting or not. Looking at his hand, she wondered whether or not the knob would survive his hellish grip. _He's so angry . . . I didn't mean what I said-- I was only joking, dammit!_

"I don't know how many times I've told you that I wanted to marry you. And to this day, you won't answer me. I can't wait around forever to hear an answer that you will never speak. That's not fair to me, Bulma." Slowly, he released his grip on the door and looked over his shoulder and, sadly, into her eyes. "And it's not fair to you."

She wanted to tell him so many things. She wanted to tell him that she _did_ care about him and that she _did_ want to marry him and have a family-- "Yamcha, I--" But when he turned around and she saw the blatant hurt within his eyes, she realized that wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted to tell him she was sorry for wasting his life, but she wasn't prepared to give hers away so frivolously.

He held up his hand for her to stop. _Don't waste your breath on me._ "It's too little, too late, Bulma." He turned to the door once again. "I guess you should've made that wish afterall." The door closed behind him.

The second deafening click of the day.

Bulma just stood staring at the door. _He-- he's gone._ She knew the wish he spoke of. She had begun her search for the dragonballs for one wish: the perfect boyfriend. And instead, she gave up her idealized dream and gave a former thief a chance. _Was I stupid to latch onto him like that?_ For one of the first times in her life, she had look behind the surface for something more. _I never found what I wanted. But did I even know what I wanted then? Was he . . . it?_ Outside, she heard the wail of his car as he crept away. _I was such a fool._ She clenched her eyes shut and dropped her head. _A fool . . . _

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


He had heard everything; it was hard not to. As the drama played out in the kitchen, he had neglected the movie and no longer acknowledged its existence-- let alone if it was still playing. _So it finally happened. They broke it off. Somehow . . . I always thought that she would be the one to end it with him. After all, when Freiza came to Earth, she did not cower as he did. And now that he's gone once again, will she crumble?_ He stood and mobilized his walk to the kitchen. _If I could sit on a throne and dictate the proceedings of universe . . . never._

  
  
  
  


* * *

To be continued. 

* * *

  
  
  


Uh . . . that had to be about the stupidest breakup in history! And I had the displeasure of getting _all_ the credit for its creation. -_- So who was the "badguy" in the breakup? *shrugs* Your guess is as good as mine. And if Puar's _not_ a guy . . . whoopsies! *lol* I've heard both possibilities, so even I don't know anymore. O.o

_Oh_ . . . I almost forgot. Whomever can guess the tune of the Briefs' doorbell . . . gets a (hypothetical) gold star and (virtual) pat on the back from me! :)

And about that beard/mustache tangent I was on . . . for one, I think King Vegeta looked pretty damn good even with the beard!! :) And as for the mustache crack . . . well, you'd have to see at least the first episode of _Dragonball Grand Tour_ (DBGT) to get it. ;) Let's just say, "Vegeta, what were you thinking?!" O.o

Trust me, chapter six is going to be way better than this piece of crap. However, it may take _way_ longer to write as well. (I've only written the begging of the chapter and not much else-- I'm kind of stuck ~.~ But if I feel impatient, I may just upload the intro to chapter 6 as a _teaser_, and then maybe you guys could help me with ideas!:) The chapter after that (chapter 7 or so) is already started as well. But I need to _get_ there first. -_-

On a special note to all the fanfiction.net reviewers, I hope you liked _fi_nally getting thanks for your honest reviews. I guess I _was,_ playing favorites with the mediaminer.org reviewers . . . but no more!! There are plenty "thank you's" to go around!! :)

Thanks to _all_ you reviewers for inspiring me to continue! ^_^ Now, it's time to go leave one. ;) Or if you'd rather, send all comments, questions, and suggestions to:  
duonotsuin@yahoo.com


	6. Ode To A Banana Split

**Standard Disclaimers:**

I do not own _Dragonball Z_ or any of its related merchandising rights.

However, this story is _my_ intellectual property. It's been too long since I've added to this saga christened _Yumenimo_, but that shows just _how_ many other projects I've been toying with. Also, in case you can't tell, this is my first published _DBZ_ fic -- but mostly my first V/B. ^_~

**Warnings:**

Note on the last chapter: Yes, I now remember that Puar _is_ a girl. (Sorry to all you hardcore _DBZ_ fans!) But I thought it was funny. *shrugs* I give this as a peace offering . . . new eps of _DBZ_ on CartoonNetwork March 17th!! Yay, _fi_nally!! (so I've heard, I may be wrong -_-)

For fans of _Episode2_, I may still add a special something . . . _extra_ special in later chapters. *lol* As for this chapter . . . there's drama, angst, romance, bad language and lots of it, my stupid attempts at humor, feminine "issues," and a special for this chapter . . . a lemon(graphic sexual content). So be_ware_! This story is rated-**R**. *evil li'l smirk* I realized that this chapter took me for_ever_ to finish, but . . . I think it was worth it. Don't forget to let me know what you think. ;)

  
  


* * *

Thank you to kristina, badgerwolf, **Tenshi Kanashii**, **AngelofDeath**, John Stewart, Chick, **mischief maker**, and **vampkestrel** for all the reviews. ^_^ 

* * *

And a special doumo arigatou gozaimasu to **Tina Lang** for listening to my ideas and urging me on. I never could have done it without you. ^_~   


* * *

  
  
  
  


**Yumenimo**   
-- not in one's wildest dreams

  
  
  


By Duo no Tsuin

  
  
  
  


* * *

Chapter Six

* * *

  
  
  
  
  


_I was a young, ignorant fool . . . no! I won't give in and take the full blame for this. It was both our faults._ She finally noticed that her fingers were starting to tingle from clenching her hand so tight. She wanted to scream from pain-- she just wanted to scream. "Yeah, that's it, Yamcha!" She picked up the nearest object and chucked it blindly with all her pained might. "Go ahead and leave you _ass_hole!" It didn't matter that he was already gone; she needed to release some of the anger she felt at herself . . . _and_ him. _Good riddance. What a dickhead! I can't believe I put up with his shit this long . . . _

"_Onna_."

"_What_!?" Based on her reaction you would've thought he had screamed it.

But even Vegeta knew what fights he should not pick with Bulma. And this was definitely one of them. _What would be the point? She used up her best material on him._ Vegeta fought the urge to chuckle. _There would be no ripe ammunition. Perhaps she won't crumble at all._ Vegeta smirked and pointed to the sticky mess on his head. "Is _this_ yours?" The object that she had so haphazardly hurled was her banana split. 

Bulma couldn't help it. _It . . . actually landed on his head? Who would've thought that my aim had actually improved over the years._ She giggled. _Oh no, he heard!_

His smirk disappeared as he squinted his eyes and crossed his arms. "What's so funny?"

_If only he knew that-- that the ice-cream is about to run into his ear!_

He soon found out. "Ughh! What is this crap anyway? Get it _off_!"

That did it. Bulma's lungs burst as her body shook with laughter.

Vegeta glared at her. _She's laughing at me? The Prince of all Saiyans has been reduced to an-- uh . . . court jester!?_ "Dammit, Onna, it's not funny!" He strode past the breakfast table and marble topped island to the sink behind her. 

_Yes it is!_ Her mind argued. _But that look on his face-- he looks so . . . damn, I didn't mean to do it._

__

Yeah, you did!

To the house . . . or Yamcha-- not him.

Why not?

B- because he might . . . She couldn't help but recollect the images that she had imagined when the Z-Fighters had told her of Vegeta's evil-- not to mention the implications Krillen made after that strange boy from the future left. 

_". . . who knows what Vegeta would do? Talk about scary--!?"_ Krillen had more or less joked.

Or did he? _He might . . ._ Her face fell.

_What the Hell is that baka Onna's problem? Why is she just standing there? She's done this on purpose to humiliate me!_ Actually, he knew it was an accident, but for some reason he was ignoring that obvious fact. "What the Hell are you laughing at anyway?"

Bulma gulped, turned toward him, and leaned on the island between them. "I'm sorry, Vegeta, I didn't mean to hit you with the ice-cream--"

"Well, if your timing had been better then we could have _both_ been laughing at the weakling instead!"

He was right. _Maybe it would have been better if I threw it at Yamcha? That would have been funny, but . . . I still think it's funnier on him! However . . ._ Bulma sighed as she watched him wipe off the major blobs of ice-cream and fudge off his head and into the sink. When chocolate ran down the back of his neck and into his shirt, she could have _sworn_ that he jumped.

Vegeta turned on the faucet as hot as it would go-- which in Saiyan terms is still cold-- and watched as the chunks of ice-cream melted down the drain. A flash of color caught his eye. He noticed the forgotten flowers sitting in the sink. _He brought her flowers. According to television, she should have loved "the thought." Perchance she's not as predictable as one would think._ His thoughts had turned respectful, but he forgot what he was thinking when he felt something ooze down his neck and back. "Eww!" His hand reached up to wipe off the offensive substance. "What the Hell _is_ this crap, Onna!" His white glove was now stained with chocolate. "_Fuck_!"

It was unbearable to watch the Saiyan struggle so. _God, I feel so sorry for him._

_Oh, wouldn't he just love getting a helping of pity from you._

_Cram it!_

Vegeta walked toward the island that separated them. He looked down. "Why do you need two bowls? Are you fattening up for Winter? Or were you just expecting the weakling? I thought I told you no guests allowed--"

"Grrrrrr. Not that _you_ care, but I was making one for _you_, remember?"

_For me? She did ask if I wanted anything . . . She was trying to be . . . nice?_ "Onna . . . "

"Yes, Vegeta?"

His eyes locked with hers. 

_I wish he'd say, "Thank you, Onna," or something-- Hell anything but this silence. His eyes . . . if I could read them, then they're telling me--_ "God dammit, Vegeta!" It was all a diversionary tactic.

While holding her gaze with his, he had reached down for the jumbo salad bowl filled with bananas and ice-cream . . . and dumped it on her head.

"Why _you_-- you ungrateful moocher!"

"Hn." He smirked. "Now we're even."

Bulma snarled in anger and picked up the nearest weapon. Reaching for it blindly, she stabbed him.

"Mmmf!"

And then she stomped away.

Vegeta pulled out the pale yellow object, which she had stuffed in his mouth, and looked at it. _Could it be poisoned? If it is, then it's typically attenuated-- otherwise I'd be dead now._ He sniffed it. _Definitely not rotten._ He observed the ingredients spread out over the counter-top. _It must be the other ingredient._ The smell danced up to his nostrils-- enticing him. _Maybe it wouldn't taste that bad. _

So, he took a bite.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


_Of all the lousy, god damn, piece of shit eating, low down and dirty tricks in all the known universe--_ Bulma had stalked up the stairs to her bathroom and pulled off her clothing as if it were coated in vicious venom rather than sticky sweetness.

_He is a military strategist, you know._

_So what? That jerk dumped gallons of ice-cream on me!_ She cursed as she turned on her bathroom faucet to handwash her clothes before the stains set.

__

You started it.

No, I wanted to dump it on that asshole Yamcha--

He's right, that would have been funny.

_Yeah, it would've._ She gazed sadly at the chocolate state of her clothing soaking in the soapy water. It was lucky she kept some gentle detergent in the cabinet under her sink. _Why couldn't Dad have invented the strongest stain remover that never damages fabrics?_/p> 

_Or stain repellant clothing._

Come to think of it, I don't ever remember seeing any of the Saiyan armor stained. Hn, I'll have to ask Vegeta what removed the blood from his armor . . . maybe I'll learn something about chocolate.

His gloves were covered in it.

Damn, I really didn't mean it. Maybe Yamcha's right. He's just a spoiled brat who doesn't know any other way to act.

Kind of like you.

Am I really selfish? Did I invite the Namekians and Vegeta to stay here . . . to suit my own selfish needs?

What does Yamwhore know anyway? He wasn't there then.

But I made sure that I wished him back. Was that a mistake? Should I have just let him-- no. What I did was right. Everyone deserves a second chance at life. Even-- 

Vegeta.

I don't doubt that he killed. I know he did. But if he was truly as heartless as the others say . . . then why didn't he just kill off my family and steal the GR? Well, he did borrow it.

And returned it.

Didn't I have a dream just before he showed up? I wish I could remember it. I just remember . . . a feeling. What was it? But mostly . . . I remember hearing his voice speak to me. I don't remember the words-- just the tone. It made me feel so . . . 

Warm.

_And lonely._

She paused, looked at her shower, and realized that her hair was probably the equivalent of a sticky mop. _I truly am selfish._ So she turned on the spray and stepped in when it was hot-- not scalding. 

_There's Vegeta . . . prideful, strong, alone in a world of strangers. And then there's you-- proud, strong willed, and alone in a world of friends._

_I wish I could call my friends and just talk for a change._

_You could._

When her hair was soaked, she reached for her shampoo. _But I won't. I'd call Chi Chi, but . . . she's always so busy-- feeding two Saiyans, running the household, and tutoring their son._ Bulma sighed. _And what have I got? I'm a grown woman who lives with my parents and works for my dad. I'm one of those stereotypical nerds._ The action of massaging her scalp started to finally relax her. _Hn. At least I'm not a virgin too . . ._

__

When most girls are young, they dream of falling in love, marrying the perfect guy, and making their first child on their wedding night.

Even I dreamed of that too. But I just can't ever see myself . . . I don't want to give up my work.

Work? Have you done any of that lately?

As she rinsed her hair, it fell forward to cover her eyes. _I really am a loser._

_And there's Vegeta . . . a prince without a throne-- Hell, he's even without a planet-- a wife, or an heir. Hell, the closest thing he has to blood family is Goku and Gohan. Heh, he'd just love to hear that-&45_

_The closest thing he has to a friend is me._ It hit her. She was the only one who ever treated him like a regular person-- even Goku had his doubts. She let him stay at her _home_. Was she insane? _Probably. But back then, the only thought that crossed my mind was my virtue._

_And that's gone._

_I joked about it at the time, but a part of me was scared to have him near. And then there was the real image that passed through my head._ She didn't know what it was then. She still didn't know. But seeing him on Earth had changed her. _Maybe it was the knew armor. I always was a sucker for guys dressed in black--_ She knew that was a lie. When she had turned to escort the Namekians to her home, she felt a chill on her neck. She turned to him and sealed their fate with her words. She saw a glint in his eyes that she couldn't place then. But the look he gave her-- a look that made her vision flash. A flash of flesh.

She leaned her forehead onto the tile. _I wish my parents never subscribed to satellite TV._

She had thought he was behind her-- going to grab her in his arms. But she turned and saw him still leaning up against the tree. _My imagination was too wild for my own good._ There were many times like that. Whenever he was behind her-- whether entering a room or just there, unmoving-- she could feel it. To this day, she could still not explain it.

_Maybe you're psychic,_ she often joked.

_Yeah right._ Whatever it was, it never failed.

_And the day he returned from space . . . what were you thinking?_

_He stunk to high heaven and needed a shower._

__

You just wanted to see him naked.

Maybe a part of me did.

_But you chickened out,_ her inner voice sang.

__

I know. I just kept my back to him then.

Big mistake. You wanted to join him, didn't you? You wanted to "welcome him home."

But I didn't. I just got him some clothes and put up with his attitude problem.

Ah, the pink "BADMAN" shirt and green pant combo.

Mentally, she slapped her forehead as she squeezed some fruity scented bodywash on her shower puff. _I had only bought them as a joke._

__

The "BADMAN" logo was cute.

Ugh, I had no taste then.

Ah, the 'fro and long sleeved horizontally striped dress days.

I stopped wearing it the day he was hurt.

You didn't want him waking up to that-- it would've scared him back into the coma.

Heh. That poor guy.

He just needs some caring. But who'd care for him?

She felt that distinct chill on the back of her neck . . . and chose to ignore it. _I _

Bulma ended her thought when a pair of masculine hands softly gripped her hips. She slipped and knocked them down onto their rears. Bulma landed against a hard powerful chest. Instantly she knew it was him, the man she was just thinking of-- not her ex. _Vegeta? What is he doing here? And why is he . . . naked!?_

_Hel-lo, up periscope!_

Beneath her, Bulma could feel his erection. _Oh God, he's here for--_ Again, she felt a gentle tickle on the back of her neck. But this time, it wasn't imagined.

His hot breath caressed the back of her neck-- free of the hair that spilled forward onto her chest as a protective barrier to his gaze.

She wrapped her arms around herself. Maybe it was the cool air outside of the warm spray, maybe it was his breath-- his heat-- that made her shiver.

As a silent reply his arms snaked around her body-- bringing her closer to his body.

Warmth.

_So warm._ At last, she felt warm. _But . . ._ She closed her eyes to the spray above. _. . . this can't be real. It isn't--_

He began nuzzling the side of her face in a silent plea to turn around. 

_I can't. I can't look._ If she didn't look at him, then she wouldn't awake and berate herself for the lapse in control.

Reaching down, he plucked the soapy louffa from her hand and rubbed it against her stomach.

Now _that_ . . . she hadn't expected. Conceivably it was selfish. But at this moment and in this place, she no longer cared. He was there for his own reasons as well and whether or not it was lust didn't matter. The point was . . . he was there.

Her left hand covered his; he froze. She knew what he wanted-- she could tell from his touch-- and, oddly enough, she wasn't afraid. She squeezed his hand and leaned her head at an angle.

If it was lust and selfishness . . . 

From her actions, he could tell she finally wasn't turning him away. Utilizing his free hand, he gathered her exotic hair off of her neck to rest on a single shoulder-- it hadn't occurred to her that he now had full view of her. Experimentally, he kissed her neck as he started caressing her midriff once more.

. . . then at least it was mutual.

She didn't want to say anything; she didn't want to speak. One word could end this dream.

There was something unique about the attention he was giving her neck. His kisses began slow, unsure. A light touch here. A wet caress there.

_Has he ever . . ._ her thought was lost as his lips touched her throbbing pulse. He smirked against her skin-- she could feel it.

She pushed the wet and flushed skin against his lips.

More.

His mouth opened at the invitation and seized her palpitation with its warm and craving confines.

At this contact, her free hand reached for his hair and entwined her fingers within the ebony mane. 

Closer.

His hand holding the soapy louffa-- still draped with her own-- crisscrossed from her midriff to the cleft between her breasts and swirled around each.

Infinity.

She gasped.

If her nipples weren't firm before, they became pert as stone beneath his touch.

And he began his agonizing torture both at chest and neck.

His tongue darted out to run the length of her pulse.

Faster.

He paused. 

Bulma was nearly confused as his neglected hand reached up for hers-- disentangling it from his locks-- and, taking a cue from her, clasped her soft hand with his own.

He stilled.

Slowly, Bulma peeked through hooded eyes and found herself gazing in wonder as his hand squeezed her own. With her hand raised before them, he traced the lines of her pruned fingertips and slender hand with his contrasting strong one. 

Bulma held her breath. Placing his palm to hers, he grasped her hand gently and brought it to his mouth. Still, she would not look at him. He grazed her digits with his lips.

A fleeting touch. 

Closing her eyes once more, she pulled his hand before her and kissed it. Behind her, he stiffened more. With her mouth, she examined his hand. _So strong . . . _

Kisses and caresses.

His index finger traced her lips which she suddenly took into her mouth. A sound resembling a growl or moan caressed her ear, and he took her earlobe in his mouth.

As each continued their warm and wet kisses, the soap filled puff led their hands on a full tour of her now aching body. 

Sides, front, arms, legs.

Pulling their still woven fingers from her face, he smoothed his palm over her moistened and lathered skin.

Back, forth, up, down.

He paused, suddenly, when all hands amassed on her lower abdomen. She felt his breath cease and her own heart tremble. He was waiting for something.

_Does he . . . ?_

She moved their hands in circles at first-- a test.

His answer? He started moving them lower.

Her counteroffer? She delicately bucked her hips.

Inhaling deeply, his hands left their wondrous caress to pull her up onto his lap and lean their combined weight against the cold tile wall behind him. Once again, his hands joined hers. Leaning toward her, he inhaled her scent. He softly squeezed her hands and massaged them with his thumbs. Again, he waited.

She broke their grip-- he protested with a low noise in his throat-- moved her legs to brace against the wall, and overlaid her hands directly atop his. Lingeringly she pushed their right hands lower. Meeting her curls, his fingertips toyed with them; her torso shook with a deep chuckle. Tentatively, he moved lower still. The sudden heat he felt flowing from her made his gesture stutter, but she gave a guiding nudge.

Keeping their hands joined as one, he extended his ring finger forward into her warmth. She inhaled a sharp breath as he did so. Utilizing her same finger, she guided him deeper inside and felt his pulse quicken within his chest. When she was sure he was still breathing, she caused them to retreat. His hand protested by stilling at her entrance. She snuck them forward again. Sliding nearly out once more, she added a slight pressure to the sensitive nub within. His rough fingertips grazed it perfectly-- she sighed.

Bulma dragged their neglected hands up to breasts and, needing no more encouragement, he massaged them as he kissed her neck and entered her of his own will. She gasped at the quick study working magic both inside and out of her.

Reaching behind, she caressed the taught muscles of his neck. Reveling in the massage, he kissed his way down her arm and nearly growled when her hair-- which was now darker and nearing the shade of cobalt-- blocked the other side of her neck. Grudgingly, his land left her breasts to hold her hair forward as he suckled the responsive crook of her neck and pumped in and out of her aching womanhood faster.

She could feel it#45- the tension, heat, warmth-- building. It would be soon. _Too soon . . ._ This time, she pushed another of his fingers in along with their others-- it was easier that way for him, anyway.

Not long now.

Now with her hand free-- the hand she had used along with his own to pleasure herself-- she reached behind her and grabbed his arousal. He started moaning with the new warmth as she began her torment. The soap, water, and her natural lubrication created a wonderful simulation around him. He paused to match her rhythmic strokes.

Not long at all.

_Its . . ._ Her inner muscles contracted around his fingers and warmth flowed out of her. "_Vegeta_!"

Almost instantaneously he hardened once more before groaning, "_Bulma_ . . . " and releasing his seed on her back. 

They continued the intimate caresses for moments more as their bodies shook-- the aftermath.

Bulma was lying on top of him in a drenched heap-- their breathing set in a matched pace. A darkness settled around her, then.

_. . . a dream._

But most importantly, she remembered the warmth as she drifted off to sleep.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


When Vegeta could feel her breathing deepen, he knew she was asleep. He gathered her in his arms, stood slowly not to wake her, grabbed a huge fluffy towel nearby, and carried her to her bed. When she was dry, he pulled back the sheets, and placed her softly within the blankets. He gazed at her sleeping form-- hair spilling gracefully over the pillow, a tiny smile on her lips, and a tinge of color on her cheeks-- and smiled. Pulling the sheet over her, he went to wash his body of dessert.

  
  
  
  


* * *

To be continued. 

* * *

  
  
  


*blushes and runs off-- leaving a note behind* 

Thank you, everyone. I couldn't have done it without your support. ^_^  
Send all comments, questions, and suggestions to:  
duonotsuin@yahoo.com


	7. Naked Truth

**Standard Disclaimers:**

I do not own _Dragonball Z_ or any of its related merchandising rights.  
However, this story is _my_ intellectual property. Also, in case you can't tell, this is my first published _DBZ_ fic but mostly my first V/B. ^_~  
Also, any relation to late-night adult programs, formerly both running on _Showtime_, *lol* mentioned within is coincidental. (Yeah, right:P) 

**Notes:**

Everyone catch the new eps of _DBZ_ on _CartoonNetwork_?? Yay, _fi_nally!! I loved hearing Bulma shout _the_ words (_so_ kawaii!:) and later seeing her shopping in a jewelry store. If that doesn't mean what I think it does, then I'm delusional. *lol*  
I know it's been a long time coming, but while writing this, I got struck by a massive inspiration hammer that pummeled me senseless until I wrote something down that you guys may appreciate in the future, _way_ in the future, since it will take place after the events of _Yumenimo_. Yup, I'm gonna finish this baby, one way or another. And afterwards . . . *lips are sealed* Intrigued? You won't be sorry if you wait for it. ;) 

**Warnings:**

Angst, drama, romance, gratuitous graphic language and lots of it, my stupid attempts at humor, both male and feminine "issues," and even more redundant swears, bitchiness, and non-'morning person' tendencies. So be_ware_! This story is rated-**R**.   
  


  
Doumo arigatou gozaimasu to:  
**Mushi_azn**, **mischief maker**, **NSBVEGETA**, Pammy, John Stewart, **Viny88**, Maxelle, dragonlady sakura, **kureeji**, **Da Bomb** and Saphire (thanks for the multiple reviews, you two! :), Melphina, SAI FONG, and **Arella** for all of the constructive reviews of my first lemon filled chapter. ^_^  
  
And special thanks to **Tina Lang** for being a constant reviewer, inspiration, and support. ^.^  


  
  
  
  


**Yumenimo**   
not in one's wildest dreams

  
  
  


By Duo no Tsuin

  
  
  
  


  
Chapter Seven   


  
  
  
  


Vegeta shook his head and ran a hand through his gravity defying hair. _What the Hell did I do last night?_ His skull throbbed beneath his palm. _If I didn't know any better . . . then I'd say I had one of those what do the humans call it? A hang . . . over? Yeah right. There's no way earthling "alcohol" could effect me as it would one of those weaklings. Still . . . something's not right._

Involuntary, a certain appendage twitched beneath the sheets. _What the _ He reached down and touched the unusually active external organ. _Did I have another one of those dreams? Dammit, this is getting annoying. You think I'd have enough to fill my time without the need to jack-of what the fuck!?_ Vegeta's open eyes fell on a sleeping form next to him. And, mostly, he noticed the blue hair. _Shit._ The floodgate had opened.

  
  


  
  
  


Bulma shifted, stretched, and sighed. _What a night. Or was it a dream? Yeah, a dream. Just an incredibly hot, wet, dre _

_You've finally lost it, Bulma. You know women can't have wet dreams Only guys can _

_Only guys can what? Use it as an excuse? Fact, women can have very erotic dreams _

_Spare me the details. I was there. I know who was in the supposed dream with you._

Bulma stiffened. _So what, it doesn't matter. It was just a dream _

_Are you sure about that?_

_Of course I am. One, I don't have those kinds of dreams. Two, it's not like we'd have a future together. Three, there's no proof that he finds me even remotely attractive. And four . . . there's Yamcha._

_Bull, shit, bull-shit, and double bull-shit. One, you're flat-out lying. Two, you're such a pessimist in the morning. Three, don't you remember what you told him about not being able to be resisted? And four . . . you broke up!_

Bulma gulped. _I almost forgot._

_Because after that glorious moment you had wild moneky sex with the Veg all night long._

_God, you're such a whore. It was a dream. A d-r-e-a-m _

_Alright, smarty bitch, then tell me what that goo is between your thighs._

She bit her lip. _I hope that is what I think it is._ With her eyes still closed, she trailed her hand down her body and gently probed her wet entrance. _Shit._ She reached the coated fingertips to her alert nostrils. _Fuck._

_Oh yeah, you know you loved it._

Honestly, she could tell one thing from the smell . . . _Shit fuck . . ._ it was her post climax release.

_Your cum, dumb bitch._

_So what? That doesn't prove a thing. I could've simply mastur _

_Well, excuse me, Miss I-don't-do-that but guess what . . . you don't do it. Well, at least not alone._

_If you are implying that I used my own hands to _

_Say it, you know you want to._

_M-my own hands while he watched!?_

_Turns you on, doesn't it?_

A lonely muscle twitched within her. _Well . . . maybe just a little . . . _

_There's my gal! Admit it . . . you're a sex addict._

_An addict? Hardly . . . _

_Oh yeah? Then how would you explain those boxed sets of Blue High Heels Journals and Chicks: Tales of Intimacy you keep in that chest in your closet?_

_Uh, they were a gift?_

_Hn, as if. More like a gift to yourself._

_What can I say . . . they're just good._

_Oh yeah, like you watch them for the story lines._

_So? It's not like I never read a trashy romance novel . . . let alone that phase I had a few years back. I still love lemonade to this day._

_Ever think about sharing your "collection" with someone?_

_What? You mean like Ve no way!_ In all the years she had been with Yamcha that was one part of her life that she kept her own. She had known it wasn't fair, but she couldn't say the words . . . to anyone. And especially not to a saiyan prince who believed her whole existence a vulgarity. _He'd never . . . _

_Are you sure about that? For all yo know, he's as addicted as you _

_Well, no, but that doesn't matter. The fact is that the only time I'm close to him is in my _

_Yes, your what now? Go on . . . admit it to yourself finally. It's not like he hasn't been there before._

_He's only like that in my dreams. Nothing more._

_But nothing less than dreamy either. Face it, he's the man of your . . . _

_I admit it. Vegeta's the man from my dream last night._

_Is that all?_

_No. Though I've tried to get past it, I've dreamt of us before. That diary my dream journal it should be in that chest in the closet along with _

_The "collection." Not to mention those books you saved and those other "treasures" as well. And the notebooks can't forget those._

_The "Forbidden" box. Ha. What a joke._

_So are you ready, Pandora? Open the box so to speak . . . and then go where you want with it. Who knows what could happen if you tried._

_You think that he . . . _

_Who knows. You're a free woman now. Make up your own mind._

_Yeah. I'm free . . . and I can make my own decisions!_

Bulma rolled over the first thing she noticed was waves of blackness and reality blew right out the window. _. . . Even bad ones. _

Her eyes widened at the sight before her. His chest was exposed no big shock there, he walks around like that half the time anyway but this was the first time she could see it so closely. That wasn't what troubled her. What bothered her was the bed sheet that clung to his muscled form and was hanging dangerously low over his waist, which could mean only two things. He was naked and her dream was real. The worst thing she could do . . . she did. Her gaze lingered on his state of undress, inspected higher, and met his midnight eyes. It never occurred to her to that he was awake.

_I should've stayed asleep._

  
  
  


  
  
  


_Her eyes . . . that expression could mean one of two things. Shock or fear._

_I didn't expect to find him like this . . . to find us like this. Maybe a blush later followed by many awkward silences and unsure glances. Anything but this . . ._ Bulma inhaled a shaky breath. "V Vegeta, I "

_The latter would be better. It should be reassuring for her to know that it won't happen again._ "What the _Hell_ are you doing in my room?"

"Uh, well, I don't hey!" She sat up and pulled the thin sheet around her torso to cover what little she could; he was just as precariously covered up to his waist. "This is _my_ room, buster, so unless you have some fan_tas_tic explanation, consider your residency here terminated!"

Vegeta's head convulsed. He sat up and leaned forward onto his palm. "Why the fuck does my head hurt? What did you do, Onna, bash me on the head to have your way with me?"

"What? _No_, I " The 'dream' came flooding back to her. "Vegeta?"

"_What_?"

"What . . . do you remember about last night?"

_Remember . . . what?_ "Hn. I remember training and then watching that movie which, in the middle of, you got up and left to make yourself "

"Correction. To make _us_ dessert."

"Whatever. Then while I was watching the movie that you _forced_ me to watch "

"Why you dick " _You forced me to play it!_

" . . . I heard arguing. Tell me, Onna," a smirk reminiscent of his barbarous days passed over his features, "did the weakling come begging for a fuck? Bet you gave it to him too right there in your family's kitchen."

"You _ass_hole! You want to know what he was doing there? He was a_pol_ogizing, ever hear of it? Of course, his excuse lacked believability." She crossed her arms over her chest. "He cares for that fucking flying furball more than he does me . . . "

"Beaten by a shape shifter in the camouflage of a cat? How does it feel?"

Her arms fell to her sides. "Like _shit_." _Is that how you felt . . . beaten? No wonder you despise Goku and Gohan so venomously._

It almost made sense. _So he had neglected her. She doesn't deserve that kind of treatment. She deserves _

"So I ended it right there. I told him to leave. And _this_ time," she raised her chin slightly as she lifted her pained eyes to the wall across from her bed and added, "I'm not letting myself take him back."

The monotone did not escape him. _She sounds so sure . . ._ "Not even if he comes spouting sonnets or apologies clad in golden armor surrounded by mounds of flowers?" _Don't humans dig that shit?_

"No. This time, there's no going back." _And I mean that._

_Her voice is full of determination. Her courage . . . like the day Frieza returned and was defeated by the mysterious Saiyan and Kakarrot returned in the wake. She came to look her doom in the face even then she showed more courage than half of them. Onna, you have the courage of Saiyans._

_Don't I?_ "So, uh, what happened _after_ . . . " _. . . you overheard the fight?_

"_During_ the spat, you launched a bowl of goo at me."

"Oh yeah." _Priceless._ "Then what?"

"The other bowl landed on your head."

"Landed? Whoa, more like _dropped_ on me by _you_."

" . . . and then you grabbed something and stuffed it into my mouth."

"I did?" All the details of the "dream" she could remember. But one _tiny_ thing before . . . 

"It was pale yellow, had a combination furry and mushy texture, and left my mouth dry."

_Oh yeah. If I can remember details like that, then maybe I can remember what really happened and figure a way out of this nightmare!_ "It's called a banana."

"What is this . . . banana?"

"A fruit."

"Not poison?"

She sighed. _You trust me that little?_ She placed her hands on her hips, "_No_, not poison," and then she realized that gravity was moving the sheet lower. 

He lifted an eyebrow as the fabric drifted dangerously low.

Bulma covered her chest again with the shear fabric. _Fate hates me._ "So what happened after that?"

"I went upstairs to take a shower. The next thing I know, I awoke here."

"You don't remember . . . _any_thing else?"

_You were pliable. Vulnerable. You didn't exactly seem pissed to find me in your shower instead of my own. Could you have wanted me to no._ He crossed his arms. "No," he lied.

_So that's what I am? Utterly forgettable. Hn. Figures. _

Her arrogant inner voice spoke up at this. _Would you prefer, 'I won't let you go' sextastic?_

_Better than, 'You were so bad, I don't want to remember.' Unless . . ._ "Did you have a dream last night?"

"None of your business."

"If we _did_ anything in that dream, then of _course_ it's my business!"

"So?"

"So? _So!?_ I had a dream last night, Vegeta. A very . . . " _Hot, kinky, great, sweet, chemically reactive, foreplay filled, amazing, awesome, fabulous, erotic, fantastic, sexy, joyous, yummy, lemon-riffic . . . meow!_ " . . . _graphic_ dream. And whether you admit it or not, we _both_ know it happened."

_Denial should suffice._ "Nothing happened."

"_Oh_, and we had a wet encounter of the _psychic_ kind instead of the _fleshy_ kind?

_Plan B?_ Vegeta growled. _Just drop it already!_ "I've told you again and again that I _don't_ remember what happened!" _It's better this way. You'll see._

"And why is that, Vegeta? You, the Saiyan no Ouji, forget something? The universe is _end_ing "

"Well, if I _did_ forget which I'm not saying that I did or didn't then _some_thing caused it."

"Like what, genius?"

"Well, this all started after you dumped that mucilaginous dessert on me and tried to asphyxiate me with that poisonous fruit of yours "

Her eyes grew wide and she suddenly exclaimed, "That's _it_!"

"What's it? Have you lost it again?"

"No, Vegetable Brain, don't you see? You said it yourself. It all started after you ate the banan that pale yellow fruit."

"So."

"_So_ . . . are you in there? Monkey . . . ba_nan_a."

"What the Hell are you babbling about, Onna?"

_It was the banana, Monkey Brain!_ Bulma exhaled. Bulma _really_ needed to remember that he didn't know Earth stereotypes. _Why can't I get him to watch at least one tv program about primates?_ When everything fails to explain something to an alien, always remember to try approaching it some other way before giving up entirely. "Okay, Vegeta, I'm going to ask you something strange . . . "

"When _don't_ you."

" . . . on your planet are there any fruits, vegetables, or any plants that cause weird behavior in Saiyans?"

"Define _weird_."

"Say . . . after ingesting it, a saiyan male loses control over his actions and, well, tries to uh . . . " _Hump anything and everything with boobs . . . _

"Tries to _what_?"

"And tries to . . . seduce every female that moves?" _Here I go being "vulgar" again._

_Is that what she thinks of me? That I would merely seduce her? How disgusting. She really believes we are a primate race. Not that their race is all that special; I've seen those shows on TLC, Discovery, and the like saying that humans are evolutions of primates. They are so readily influenced by chemicals, substances, and anything they metabolize. Nothing could ever compare to good god, it can't be. There's no way . . ._ "Vaguely, I remember an old tale," _The real story not told to generations. _

"Yes?"

"There was a saiyan prince who had a lush garden that encompassed a large portion of the planet. One day, he spotted a strange tree growing that bore an unusual fruit. Being inexperienced, sheltered, and uninformed, he praised it as a divine gift and ate one of them under the light of a full moon." _So what if I'm lying? It's better than the truth any other rationalization should do._

"What happened?"

_Who knew that the Saiyan no Ouji could spout such grand embellishments? Here goes._ "He changed into an Oorazu and went berserk he was untrained to control it."

"Unlike you, correct?"

"Yeah." _You had better believe it._ "In his unseeing state, he trampled his gardens, the palace, and any nearby settlements the casualties were costly." _At least that much is true._

"How awful!"

"The next morning he awoke naked in a haze with no memory of what he had done." _Also true. But it's not the entire tale . . ._

_Sounds familiar._ Bulma sighed. _Glad I asked._ "Is there a moral to this story?"

"Yes, two of them. Don't partake in the fruit of temptation and training is above all else, of course."

"Those are pretty shitty morals."

"Are you cheapening the astuteness of my people?"

"No, I'm simply saying that even _I_ could've worded it better."

"Then try, if you're so sure."

She thought for a moment. _What would a Saiyan think of it?_ "Well, this is based on what I think a Saiyan perspective might be, not my own."

"That's irrelevant. Spill."

"Bettering oneself takes precedence over what one desires too much to ever reach for." She looked up into his eyes, but could see nothing. No glimmer of understanding or amazement. Nothing. He just sat there a world away on the other side of the bed. _At least I'm glad I asked my parents for a king size bed when I grew too tall for my old twin._

The words shocked him. _She's closer to the real meaning that she realizes._

Once again, she looked away from him and noticed how the thin sheet clung to her legs and showed all yet nothing. _Remind me to wear baggy clothes from now on._ "But what I don't understand is . . . "

_Don't say it._

Lazily, she traced her legs beneath the cloth, "Then why didn't you kill me instead of . . . " and trailed off. 

_Why didn't I? You have no idea, do you?_ He knew what she meant, but a part of him needed to hear her say it. _The words mean everything._ If she could get past her vanity and call it what it was, then everything would be different. _Wouldn't it?_ He didn't miss the hesitation in her tone, her pain, or the slight blush that tinted her complexion. "Instead of?"

_Instead of touching _ "Nothing. It's nothing." Disheartened by her own train of thought, she pulled the bed sheet higher up and tighter around her. "I think you should leave, Vegeta."

For once, he didn't want to argue. He started to stand and then sat down quickly. _Shit._

"What's wrong with you?"

"Onna, where are my clothes?"

"Uh," panic started to grip her as she looked frantically around the room. _Oh God, why now?_ "I don't see them."

"Figures." So, he simply stood, let the sheet fall off of him, and walked to the door.

"Vegeta!" She looked away finding her closet door fascinating. "You _could_ have taken the sheet!"

"And then have seen _you_ naked?"

Her blush deepened. "Point taken."

"And for your information, Onna . . . "

She swallowed still hesitant to look at his form in the doorway. "Yeah?"

Noticing her shame and unwillingness to look his way as he gazed at her over his broad shoulder, Vegeta let his features succumb to a playful smirk. _I wouldn't have looked away._

"What were you going to say? Tell me what you wanted."

_What I wanted? None of that matters._ The whimsical guise drained from his strong featured face like blood from a fresh kill. _She didn't want me here anyway._ "Never mind." He opened the door.

_Dammit! Why isn't he answering me? He's the one that brought it up . . . whatever it was._ "Why should _you_ care if I'm undressed, anyway? You've already seen _every_thing."

And he stopped. Her words echoed in his head with a bitter aftertaste. _I saw everything? Hn. Hardly._ He had pleasured a woman, and she no longer existed in that room. _I never saw your face._

_Say something, please. Say anything. Don't leave me here like this. Don't leave _

After a flash hesitation, he stepped out of her room her former sanctuary and closed the door behind him.

  
  
  


  
  
  


He left. He was gone and the door was closed. _Closed to my room, the subject, and . . . me. Why does everything have to end with a guy shutting the door . . . to me and my life._ Her hands that had a fatal grip on the sheets began turning her knuckles white. _Why?_ They shook. _Those . . . those bastards . . . I hate them. I hate them all!_

"Damn you _all_!"

She threw her body back violently onto her mattress and shielded her face with the sheet. Her eyes were wet and clung to the material above her. The tears she had refused to abide threatened to fall. _No tears . . ._ She blinked them away only to feel the chill as they flowed across her temples. _No fucking tears . . . _

  
  
  
  


  
To be continued.  
  
  
  


Yeah, I know. It sucked too much talking and the angst kicked in a _lot_ here. Oh, and if some of the thoughts got confusing, here's the explanation: the first two parts alternated V and B's POV's, the third part alternates thoughts every paragraph or so, and the final part is all Bulma. (Still confused? Write me for an explanation if you need it.)

Think I should up the rating because of all the swearing? (Or because of the graphic detail in the last chapter?) Hell, does all the swearing _warrant_ an NC-17 rating? Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-_fuck_! *suddenly has an urge to sing Jay's rap from _Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back_ but will not mutilate _that_ . . . today* That probably did it. *lol* I'm nuts. ;) It's up to you, the reader/reviewer, to decide. Let your voice be heard! 

You thought it was all over? That V&B found their happy ending so soon? Not by a long shot. There's still more craziness to be had. Trust me, it just gets more perplexing from here on. ^.~

Thank you, everyone. I couldn't have done it without your support. ^_^

  
  


Don't forget to sign up for my general fic update list if you want: 

- 

Send all comments, questions, and suggestions to my new fic only email:  
duo_no_tsuin@yahoo.com


End file.
